


Crystal Clear

by murdermewithbooks



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Friends, Childhood Friends, Emotional Roller Coaster, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, Infidelity kinda, Lost Love, Oral Sex, Pining, Pregnancy, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:27:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25019272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murdermewithbooks/pseuds/murdermewithbooks
Summary: Javier was your best friend since childhood. The two of you were inseparable, and it was only a matter of time before you realized you wanted more than friendship. But then he left without warning - without so much as a "goodbye."  Years later, when he finally returns home from Colombia and confesses his true feelings for you, reality comes crashing down on him. So much has changed, and yet things have never been more clear in his eyes.Inspired by the song "Crystal Clear" by Hayley Williams, this series has lots of angst, lots of feels, and lots of Javi.
Relationships: Javier Peña & Reader, Javier Peña/Reader, Javier Peña/You
Comments: 9
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This series originated from a writing prompt (”I always made you think your feelings for me were totally one-sided…that wasn’t true.”) and it ultimately became the short series it is now. I think this is my favorite/best Javier series yet, I hope y'all enjoy it 💜

##  _I wanna make it crystal clear that I won’t give in to the fear_

~~~

The Texas heat is always unforgiving this time of year. But your garden was starting to look horrendous, so you had decided to just suck it up and get some yard work done. Now, as you kneel in the dirt, your gloved hands deep in the soil and back aching from bending over for so long, you think maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. 

The sound of rocks shifting under heavy footsteps has you looking over your shoulder to see a figure approaching. You raise your hand to shield your eyes from the sun shining so brightly behind the stranger, their silhouette being the only thing you can make out. “Can I help you?” you say in a polite, yet cautious voice. 

Your heart nearly stops when an all-too-familiar baritone replies, “Hola, _bonita_ ,” as he stops a few feet in front of you - well, technically behind you. Slowly rising to your feet, your eyes fully adjust to the sunlight as you take in the sight of the first man you ever fell in love with. _Javier_.

He mostly looks the same, save for the slight tan of his skin, along with a few worry lines and wrinkles that have formed over the years since he-

Since he left you.

“Javier,” you state, your voice betraying you when it cracks on the last syllable. _What is he doing here? When did he - come back?_

The silence drags on as the two of you study each other, though his expression is much softer than your confused one. “What are you doing here?” you ask at the same time he says, “You look good.” He chuckles, the sound making your stomach flip as your cheeks flush. 

That _laugh_ \- god, it’s been so long since you’ve heard it, the last time being the night before he left for Columbia to aid in the capture of Pablo Escobar. Though at the time, you didn’t actually know it would be the last time you’d see him for years to come. You didn’t learn _that_ bit of information until the next morning when you woke up to find a letter in your mailbox - a short apology for his sudden departure. 

But you’d suspected it was more like “fleeing,” especially after you’d told him how you truly felt about him just the night before. Though you suppose you should’ve known better - Javier Peña never _was_ a man who could be committed to one woman for longer than a few nights. Even if that woman was you - his best friend since elementary school. 

Lost in reminiscent thoughts of the two of you together, you don’t notice Javier taking a couple steps closer to where you’re standing. “I just got back a couple days ago and…I needed to see you,” he looks away for a moment, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

_Well, at least he has the decency to look ashamed._

“OK, you’ve seen me. Now you can go,” you turn around and head towards the front door to your house, leaving your garden a half-done mess. You’ve just reached the first step of the porch when he reaches for your wrist, “Wait - I…I’m sorry, for leaving.”

Releasing a weary sigh, you turn and face him again, his eyes filled with sincerity and something akin to desperation. Your heart instinctively aches to comfort him, but you know that’s not your place - not anymore. “Why?” you ask quietly and the regret lining his features tells you he knows you’re not just referring to why he’s sorry, but why he actually left in the first place without so much as a good-bye. Because you both know you didn’t deserve to find out he was leaving from some piece of paper left on your fucking doorstep.

“I didn’t know how to tell you - that I was assigned to the unit in Columbia. And I couldn’t face you - not after everything you’d said…about-”

“I remember,” you cut him off, tears burning at the corners of your eyes. You bite your bottom lip as it threatens to quiver, the emotions you’ve been suppressing for so long rising to the surface. “You broke my fucking heart, Javi,” your voice breaks, barely above a whisper, as a tear glides down your cheek.

“I know,” he admits in a voice just as softly as he closes his eyes for a moment, releasing a shaky breath, “God, I know, Y/N. I - **I always made you think your feelings for me were totally one-sided…** ” he takes a deep breath, sliding his hand down your wrist and holding your right hand in both of his, “but… **that wasn’t true** ,” he confesses, his words landing like a punch to the gut.

Your breath hitches when you finally process what he’s said, the meaning behind his words gripping your heart like a vise. _He…feels the same way?_

His dark eyes search yours, pleading for you to understand - for you to forgive him. But you’ve fallen speechless as you try to think of a response, barely able to voice a weak, “W-what?” 

As you remain in a state of shock, Javi reaches for your other hand, coming to stand in front of you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Bonita, I-” he starts but then his brow furrows as he looks down at your left hand, his fingers feeling for something under your gardening glove. 

The look of realization on his face is what finally snaps you out of your trance-like state. You swallow hard as you remove the glove from your left hand, bringing it up closer to eye level to show him-

“I’m engaged,” you croak out, your words laced with regret, and you quickly push away every thought rushing to the forefront of your mind. You refuse to acknowledge any bit of reasoning as to _why_ your heart is breaking from sharing the news of your engagement with the man who basically just confessed his love for you.

“Oh,” he swallows hard, his gaze fixated on the simple diamond that suddenly feels like it’s cutting off circulation to your finger. His grip loosens as he releases your hands, wiping his own hand down his face as he turns away, muttering, “Of course you are - soy más pendejo,” he trails off, his back facing you.

You’re frozen at the bottom of the porch, clutching your gardening glove to the point of making your knuckles ache. His hands rest on his hips, his head dropping for a moment as he takes one, two, three breaths before turning to face you once more. 

Your heart begins to race as he watches you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Though, the sadness in his eyes is impossible to miss. 

Clenching his jaw, he nods his head once like he’s come to some kind of decision. “Felicidades, _bonita_. I hope your prometido knows how lucky he is,” he offers a tight-lipped smile before turning on his heel and walking away. It takes a minute for your legs to finally spring into action as you stumble after him, “Javi, wait!” you drop the glove on the ground, no longer caring about the mess in your front yard.

He skids to a stop but remains facing forward, his shoulders tense. Walking around his brooding figure, you face him head-on, “It’s been _years_ since I’ve even heard from you, Javi - you can’t just-” you shake your head incredulously, all the hurt and confusion from his abandonment manifesting itself as anger, “you don’t get to do this to me. You don’t just get to leave, come back and say you have feelings for me - and then fucking leave again!” 

Your chest rises and falls with the same fierce intensity coating your words, but you refuse to back down, “Why did you even come here if you were just gonna leave the minute I rejected you? I mean, what the hell was I supposed to _do_ after you left? Sit around and sulk because my best friend - _the man I love_ \- decided to take a job in Columbia, and didn’t even say good-bye?!” 

Your hands fly to your hair in frustration as you start to pace up and down the sidewalk, angry tears welling in your eyes. _No, I’m not crying over him again - I did enough of that when he left._ But the memory of you sitting on the hardwood floor in your living room, clutching his letter to your chest as you sobbed for hours, has fresh tears spilling onto your cheeks.

“‘Love’, not… ‘loved’?” he asks carefully as he watches you closely, holding his breath while you wipe your face clean with the front of your shirt. You look at him with a furrowed brow, “What?” The adrenaline from your outburst is quickly fading, exhaustion taking its place.

After a beat, you meet his eyes, which are swimming with emotion as he elaborates, “You said ‘the man I _love_ ’… not ‘the man I _loved_.” His face gives nothing away, but you’re taken aback when you see an echo of something in his eyes - _hope_.

You slowly shake your head, “Javi-” but he cuts you off with a desperate plea.

“Please, just-” he takes a step toward you, his hands reaching out to lightly grip your arms, “tell me - tell me you feel nothing for me anymore and I’ll leave you alone…for good.” And from the pained look plaguing his features, you know he’ll keep that promise - he’ll walk out of your life, taking all the pain and sorrow he’s caused you along with him.

You grip his forearm with a shaky hand, holding onto him like he’s the only thing anchoring you to this moment. Your lip trembles and his brow furrows deeper in concern as your breathing picks up, your entire being overwhelmed by the emotions boiling over within you.

“I…can’t,” you breathe out, looking into his dark eyes as you bring your hands to his face, your fingers hesitantly stroking his cheek. His chest is rising and falling to the same tempo as yours, his lips slightly parted as you trace your fingers over his bottom lip, mesmerized by the curve and slight pout that permanently lives there.

“Y/N-” but it’s your turn to interrupt him, only this time it’s not with words. You cradle his face in your hands and push up on the tips of your toes until your lips meet his - and the rest of the world fades away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 **Translations** :

 _bonita_ \- pretty / beautiful

 _soy más pendejo_ \- I’m the biggest dumbass 😂

 _Felicidades_ \- Congratulations

 _prometido_ \- fiance


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is from Javi’s POV so enjoy the angst y’all! 💕💜

##  _**I jump in with the rush in my head only to find the water was concrete** _

_**~~~** _

_She’s engaged_ , Javi repeats in his head for the hundredth time since he discovered the ring on your finger. Downing his third glass of whiskey, all he can think about is the look on your face after you kissed him earlier that day.

 _The kiss starts out slow, almost tentative as your lips connect for the first time -_ is this really the first time we’ve kissed? Fuck, I’ve wasted so much time _, Javi thinks when you thread your fingers through his hair. It only takes a second before he’s gripping your hips and tugging you even closer to his chest, a gasp falling from your lips when he swipes his tongue along the seam of your lips._

_As soon as you open for him, he loses his fucking mind - every desire he’s kept locked away takes form in the desperate way his mouth devours yours. But the passion isn’t one-sided, because every time your lips break apart, your hands flex along his scalp, closing the small gap between you once more._

_Your mouths move hungrily against each other, like the two of you have been wandering through a desert for weeks, slowly dying of an agonizing thirst until finally discovering the source of life within one another. And that’s the only way Javier can describe how he’s truly felt about you all this time - like he’s been suffocating and you’re the air he’s been gasping for, for his entire life._

_All the yearning and sorrow he’s suffered from years without acting on his feelings for you leave him in a state of depravity that no other woman he’s ever been with could cure. And no matter how hard he tried - how much liquor he drank or how many women he fucked - he could never force you out of his mind._

_Or out of his heart._

_Suddenly, you pull back from the kiss, pushing against his shoulders to keep him at a distance. He grips onto your arm - not unlike the way you had held onto_ his _arm just before admitting you couldn’t deny feeling_ something _for him._

_Your eyes grow impossibly wide as the two of you stare at one another, chests heaving and breaths mingling in the little space that’s between you. He licks his lips, still tasting you on his skin and it takes everything in him not to pull you into his arms again._

_“I-” you swallow hard, your expression growing more worrisome, almost to the point of looking like you’re about to be sick. Your eyes fall to where your left hand rests on his shoulder as you croak out, “We shouldn’t have done that.”_

_With a look of concern, Javier raises his hand to tuck back stray pieces of hair that have fallen out of your ponytail, but once his finger grazes your cheek, you flinch away, taking a step back from him._

_And he’ll never admit out loud just how deeply that small gesture pierced his heart._

_You wrap your arms around yourself, not meeting his eyes as you shake your head lightly, “_ I _shouldn’t have done that - I-I’m sorry, I can’t.” Keeping your eyes cast downward, your shoulder brushes his as you head back in the direction of your house, but he catches your elbow just before you’re out of reach._

_“Can I…see you again, bonita? Just to talk, I promise,” he pleads, hoping you’ll see the sincerity - along with the fear of losing you - in his eyes._

_You hesitate, looking around as if to make sure none of the neighbors are watching your intimate exchange with a man who isn’t your betrothed. When your eyes land on his again, they soften though they remain laced with uncertainty, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Javi.” The regretful way his name falls from your lips makes his stomach drop but your next words give him some semblance of hope._

_“I just…need some time to think, OK?” you offer him a small, reassuring smile as you bring a hand to his cheek. The gesture feels so natural and warm, yet foreign all at the same time, and all he can manage is a nod in response, his voice failing him._

_He doesn’t miss the sad glint in your eye either as you turn and walk away from him for the second time that day._

Signaling the bartender, Javier asks for another whiskey as he reaches into his jacket for his box of cigarettes. He releases a heavy sigh as his drink is placed in front of him, _if there was ever a reason to get fucking plastered, reuniting with the love of your life when she’s already engaged to another man would be right at the top of the fucking list._

The moment he felt that ring on your finger, his heart clenched painfully in his chest, because he knew - he knew he was too late and he only had himself to blame. All those years ago when he left for Columbia, he thought he was doing the right thing - that you’d be better off without him. 

When he’d learned you had feelings for him as well - because if he’s being honest with himself, he’s been in love with you since you were just kids - he was shocked, to say the least. He never once even humored the idea of having something more with you, beyond the close friendship the two of you have shared for decades. 

But the way you looked at him that night, your eyes glistening with unshed tears as you bared your soul to him, there was no way he could tell you he’d already been assigned to Columbia and was set to leave the very next day. It crushed him to hug you so close that night, knowing he was a coward for saying nothing - about how he felt the same about you, and about how he’d be gone for what was sure to be years, as the hunt for Escobar would be no easy task.

So he’d kissed you on the cheek and promised that the two of you would talk everything out the next day, though it was a complete lie. And the hopeful look you gave him - one full of love and tenderness - it pulled the air right from his lungs. But he forced himself to walk away before he changed his mind and confessed the truth to you right then and there, telling himself you deserved better than a coward like him.

You deserved the world, but he could never be the one to give it to you. 

“Something got you down, partner?” the bartender asks, a slight Southern twang in his voice. Javi resists the urge to roll his eyes at the man’s use of the word _partner_ as he takes a drag of his cigarette before responding, “Just…lady troubles.” He’s surprised he divulged even that little bit of information, but it’s most likely due to the alcohol now weakening his inhibitions.

The bartender - who’s not much younger than Javier - offers a knowing smirk, “Ah, yup, that’ll do it.” He chuckles to himself and Javi glares at him, though the other man doesn’t seem to notice as he wipes down the counter, grinning to himself, “Glad I don’t gotta deal with that anymore.”

Javi raises an eyebrow, only slightly intrigued by the meaning behind his words as he takes a swig of his drink. The other man runs a hand through his light brown hair before continuing, “Been with my lady for years now and we’ve never had any problems - well, none that I’m aware of, at least,” he chuckles again and though the guy seems genuinely nice, something about him rubs Javi the wrong way. He’s just not sure what.

But he doesn’t have to wait long to find out as the door to the bar opens behind him, calling the bartender’s attention as he exclaims, “Well, speak of the devil - here’s my pretty lady now.” 

Javier downs the rest of his drink, deciding to head out before he gets stuck in an hour-long conversation with this guy and his _pretty lady_. He hears light footsteps approaching on his right and just as he sets his glass back down, he hears a familiar soft voice and freezes.

“Hi, honey. I brought you some food,” you grin as you place a large paper bag on the bar top and lean over the counter to plant a light kiss on the bartender’s - no, _your fiancé’s_ lips. “Aw, thanks, baby - you’re too good to me. But, were your ears ringin’? ‘Cause I was just talkin’ about you with my new friend here, uh - sorry, man, what’s your name?” 

You turn with a bright smile on your face, but it quickly falls once you meet Javier’s eyes - your warm expression being replaced with one of sheer panic. Javi can only imagine what’s going through your mind right now, but he’s almost certain it’s something along the lines of _“Oh, shit.”_

“Javier, nice to meet you…” putting on his best poker face, he extends his hand out to you, assuming you want him to play dumb so your fiancé doesn’t suspect Javier had his tongue down your throat just hours before. 

_As if this situation wasn’t fucked enough already._

You clear your throat a little too harshly as you extend your hand out to him, saying, “Y/N, it’s…nice to meet you, too,” and when your skin comes into contact with his, it sends a shock up his arm and straight to his heart. 

While Javier’s world is tilting on its axis, the bartender sifts through the bag you brought - seemingly unaware of the shift in the air. “Baby, did you bring your momma’s hot sauce?” he looks at you expectantly, though your eyes are still fixed on Javier. 

“Uh - oh, n-no. Shit, I forgot, sorry,” you turn and offer an apologetic smile that appears strained, at least to Javier’s eyes. _Este pendejo doesn’t have a clue, does he?_

“You feelin’ okay? You look a little pale, darlin’,” the bartender - _what the fuck is his name_ \- asks with a look of concern, and Javi almost feels bad for the guy. Or at least he would if he wasn’t currently engaged to the love of Javi’s life.

“Yeah, I’m just…tired. I was outside most of the day, trying to fix the garden,” your voice evens out as you speak and Javier can’t help but admire your talent for masking the anxiety that must be coursing through your veins. _She’s almost as good a liar as I am._

The other guy is about to respond when someone catches his attention on the far side of the room, “Gimme a minute. Don’t go anywhere, baby, and I’ll fix you another drink when I get back - OK, partner?,” he winks before sauntering off in the direction of where he was called from.

As soon as he’s out of earshot, Javier laughs, the alcohol in his system making the whole situation seem much less serious than it is, “Really, bonita? _Him?_ Since when have you been into gueros?” His words come out harsher than he intends as he glares at you and you glare right back at him with a fire crackling in your eyes.

“Since a couple of years after a certain _tontito_ left the country and never even tried to contact me again,” your words land like a blow to the stomach and Javi visibly winces before you continue, “and he’s actually a really kind person - he doesn’t deserve this.” You sigh as you plop down on a bar stool, making sure to keep one empty between you and Javier. 

“And what exactly is… _this_? I’d love to know,” he rests his elbow on the counter, leaning his head onto his hand as he angles his body toward you. “I mean, we didn’t exactly go over all the details after you had your tongue in my mouth,” you gasp at his lewd comment, but he remains unfazed as he continues, “por favor, _dime qué somos tu y yo_ , bonita.” His words are starting to slur and his vision’s a little fuzzy but he can still make out the blush on your cheeks.

“Keep it down, will you?” you whisper harshly as you lean closer to him, planting a hand on the empty stool between you. “This,” you gesture between the two of you, “is nothing, OK? I can’t - I won’t put Jackson though that,” you lean back, your expression stern, yet weary.

_So the pendejo’s name is Jackson then. Typical southern name to match his southern accent._

“Through what?” Javi asks and he knows he’s being an asshole, but that’s easier than admitting that his heart is shattering with each minute he spends looking at your beautiful face, knowing that you belong to someone else.

“I’m not doing this with you, Javi. We’re - we’re not even friends anymore, so let’s just leave it alone and…go our separate ways,” you nod as if trying to convince yourself this is the best option for everyone, but your eyes say different. Even in his intoxicated state, he can see the confusion and stress that plagues your features. At that moment, he’d give anything to hold you in his arms and kiss away all your sorrows.

“Bonita-” he starts but is stopped short by the bartend- Jackson rejoining the two of you, “Oh, “bonita” - that means pretty, right?” He grins between the two of you as if he didn’t just intrude on one of the most painful conversations of Javier’s life. 

And the way he said “bonita” is the last straw for Javier. Clenching his jaw, he slips off his stool with surprising ease and pulls his wallet out of his back pocket, his cigarette long forgotten in the ashtray on the bar.

He mumbles, “Yeah, it means pretty-” he looks at you with a level of intensity that makes your heart race, “or beautiful.” 

Dropping a few bills on the wooden surface, he nods his thanks to Jackson while clenching his fist at his side and turns to you once more, a wistful look in his eyes, “Nos vemos…bonita.”

And he walks out of the bar, his soul in tatters.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Translations:**

_pendejo_ \- dumbass

 _gueros_ \- white men

 _tontito_ \- idiot

 _por favor, dime qué somos tu y yo_ \- please, tell me what we are.

 _nos vemos_ \- see you


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place about a week after Chapter 2. i hope y’all enjoy reading it and comments/feedback is always welcome in this house 🥰

##  _**And now you’re pumpin’ air to my lungs** _

_**~~~** _

_“Javi, are you awake?,” you whisper to Javier’s half-sleeping form on the couch next to you, the television playing softly in the background.  
_

_The movie had ended a while ago but neither of you had the energy to get up and turn the TV off, both of you exhausted from working all day. But you and Javi always made time to have dinner together and watch the classic movies festival that aired every Friday night. It was a tradition that started back when the two of you were in high school and carried on well into adulthood._

_“Wha- time is it?” he mumbles, pulling you deeper into his side as he rests his head atop yours, your cheek flush against his chest. It wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to sit in such an intimate position, but over the years it’s become more natural - less a form of consolation than a state of just_ being _with each other._

 _Being this close to him always made your heart race and ache at the same time, knowing he’d never feel the same way about you, especially considering his_ very active _love life. His reputation of jumping from one woman’s bed to the next isn’t exactly a secret, but that only makes it hurt more - the fact that he chases after every woman that crosses his path - well, every woman except you._

_Pushing yourself off of him, he makes a disapproving sound, like that of a child who refuses to get out of bed on a school day. You chuckle as you get to your feet, stretching your arms above your head and moaning lightly when one of your joints pops._

_You look back at Javi to find him watching you with an unreadable expression, but he quickly turns away as he clears his throat. “I, uh - I should go. It’s pretty late and I…have a shift in the morning,” he doesn’t meet your eyes as he rises from the couch in search of his keys._

_“Don’t you usually have Saturdays off?” you ask him, stifling a yawn. He doesn’t seem to hear you as he locates his keys on the coffee table next to the empty takeout containers. You don’t think anything of it as he pulls his jacket on, but the strained look on his features leaves you feeling worried._

_“You okay, Javi?” you ask quietly when he finally stands still and just watches you, his eyes filled with apprehension. He doesn’t say anything as he crosses the room and pulls you into his arms, holding onto you so tightly it becomes difficult to breathe._

_The two of you have shared countless hugs over the years, but something feels…different - like he’s trying to say something but his voice fails him. And with the way he cradles your head and buries his face in the crook of your neck, you can’t help but become overwhelmed with emotion, a lump forming in your throat._

_You wrap your arms around his middle, shivering when your skin comes into contact with his leather jacket. “You know I care about you more than anything, right, bonita?” his voice is muffled as he speaks into your hair, his warm breath making your breath hitch._

_You nod against his chest, your heart clenching from the sincerity in his voice. Leaning back so you can look him in the eyes, you blink a couple times to clear the mistiness clouding your vision. His dark eyes stare deeply into yours, a slight furrow in his brow as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear._

_You bite your lip as you try to keep your tears from falling, your heart hammering in your chest. And although you know you shouldn’t - that nothing will come of it and that it might even risk a friendship you cherish with all your being - you can’t stop the words from coming out, “I love you, Javi.”_

_His eyes widen slightly and he swallows hard, seemingly rendered speechless by your confession. He’s silent for what feels like minutes and you almost regret letting the words escape. But deep down - beneath your insecurities and fear of him not loving you back - you actually feel relieved. You’ve known that you’ve been in love with your best friend for years now and finally being able to share those feelings with him - it’s like breathing in a lungful of fresh air after being locked in a windowless room for so long._

_You find yourself smiling up at him, despite the slightly anxious look in his eyes, because even if he doesn’t feel the same way, at least he now knows how you feel. You open your mouth to speak again but then he leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead, pulling you in for another tight embrace._

_And for the first time in as long as you can remember, breathing comes easily._

“Did you hear me, baby?” Jackson’s voice pulls you out of a memory you haven’t thought about in years, though you remember every single detail of that night.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” you shake your head, trying to focus on the conversation at hand. Jackson had been telling you about the last-minute trip he’s currently packing for - something about his brother’s ranch and a pack of sick cattle.

“I asked if you wanted to come with me. I’ll be gone at least a week,” he rests his hands on his hips as he looks up at you, a worried expression on his face. As tempting as his offer is - especially since it would take you far away from Javier - you can’t just up and leave your other obligations.

“I promised my mom I’d work double shifts at the store for the next few weeks. Her delivery guy got hurt, remember?” you say, taking a sip of your coffee to hide the grimace on your face. The delivery man for your mother’s florist shop had fallen down two flights of stairs and broken his leg in three places. Needless to say, he won’t be making deliveries for a while.

“I just don’t like the idea of you being here all alone,” he frowns and walks over to where you’re sitting at the foot of your bed. You fight the urge to roll your eyes at him. He’s always been protective of you, but sometimes it felt – suffocating. Like he doesn’t think you’re capable of taking care of yourself, which you know is an exaggeration, but it still annoys the hell out of you.

“I’ll be fine, Jackson. I _am_ a grown woman, you know,” you answer curtly and he doesn’t miss the bite in your tone as he squints at you suspiciously. “Are you sure you’re alright? You’ve been acting…different these past few days.”

Releasing a sigh, your eyes land on the pair of gardening gloves you threw haphazardly into your closet almost a week ago. The stress of having Javier back in your life - _no, he’s not back in my life. He can’t be_. 

Of course, you were devastated when he left all those years ago and it took a long time for you to find the will to move on with your life. But eventually you built a new normal for yourself, a routine that kept your mind occupied and closed off to any and all thoughts of _him_. 

Then years later, he just struts back into your life without warning, sending you into a downward spiral of confusion and hurt that you thought you had resolved long ago. But you’d be a fool to deny how good and _right_ it felt being in his arms, even if it could never happen again.

“I’m just stressed because of all the extra hours I have to work,” you sigh, hoping he’ll be satisfied with your answer and drop the issue. He reaches for the half-empty mug in your hands and sets it on the dresser before gently pulling you up from your seated position and wrapping his arms around you.

“I’m sure it’ll all be fine, honey,” he presses a kiss to your temple before tucking your head under his chin, your cheek flush against his shoulder. 

And you hate yourself for wishing a different set of arms was comforting you.

~~

A few hours later, you’re driving up the street to your mother’s house, slowing to a stop as you park in the small driveway next to a car you don’t recognize. 

As soon as you open the door to her house, you’re met with the sound of your mother’s familiar laughter – though you haven’t heard her crack up like that in years.

Rounding the corner to the living room, you nearly stumble coming to a halt when you see your mother sitting on her usual recliner – and Javier sitting on the sofa across from her. 

He notices you before she does, a smile tugging at his lips, “Hi, bonita.” His eyes are alight with mischief, along with something much softer that makes your stomach flip. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask in a tone of annoyance. You haven’t seen him since that night at the bar a few days ago, and you were hoping it’d stay that way. 

Your mother speaks up before Javi has a chance to even open his mouth, “I ran into him at the supermarket and invited him over. Why didn’t you tell me he was back in town, young lady?” her tone is scolding but there’s laughter in her eyes. 

“Uhh…” you try to think of a lie to appease her, since you don’t really want to tell her what happened when the two of you…reunited.

“I asked her not to say anything, Doña Y/L/N. I wanted to surprise you once I was settled in,” he glances in your direction, a dose of sadness in his eyes. You wonder if it’s because of what happened that day, or because you hadn’t even bothered to mention his return to your mom, the woman who was like a second mother to him growing up.

Guilt lies heavy in the pit of your stomach and you tear your eyes away from his, feeling slightly ashamed. “Oh, well in that case, I’m glad you didn’t say anything,” she grins, completely oblivious to the tension surrounding the two of you. 

The room goes quiet for a minute as you all seem to be lost in your own thoughts, your mother glancing between you and Javier as you look anywhere but his handsome face. He clears his throat and moves to stand up, “I should probably go.” 

You release a silent breath of relief, but it gets caught in your throat when your mother waves him off, “Nonsense! You’re staying for dinner and I won’t take no for an answer, so don’t even think about it.” She practically wags her finger at him and you would have laughed if it didn’t mean you’d be spending the next hour or so sitting at the same table as Javier. 

_Goddammit_.

~~

A couple hours and a large bottle of wine later, the three of you are sitting around the kitchen table, reminiscing about the time you and Javier snuck into a movie theater.

“It was a Clint Eastwood movie, of course we had to see it,” Javier says defensively, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Yes, but I could’ve given y’all some money to _buy_ tickets rather than commit breaking-and-entering,” your mother shakes her head, chuckling at the sheepish look on Javi’s face. You silently watch their exchange, feeling relaxed for the first time in days, though you’re not sure if it’s because of the company or the third glass of wine you’re currently sipping.

“Ay, doña, but half the fun is sneaking in without anyone noticing,” he looks over at you and winks before taking a drink from his glass. Heat rises to your cheeks and you look down at the table, suddenly finding the spread of dirty dishes fascinating. 

“Well, I’m glad she was with you and not that old boyfriend of hers. What was his name?” your mom asks curiously and you can feel Javier’s eyes on you, his back straightening in his chair. 

She snaps her fingers, seemingly remembering the name without your help, “Michael, right? The quarterback for the school’s football team?” she offers but you’re no longer listening as you look across the table, your eyes instantly finding Javi’s.

You remember when Michael, who was your first “serious” boyfriend, broke up with you. As soon as you called Javi that night - blubbering the reason for your heartache into the phone receiver - he came straight over from his dad’s house across town.

After you’d told him what happened, he swore, _“He’s the biggest pendejo in existence, bonita. You want me to kick his ass?”_ he’d murmured into your hair as he held you close, rubbing soothing circles on your back as you wept into his shoulder. 

All you could do was laugh at all the Spanish swear words he used to describe your ex-boyfriend, slowly mending your broken heart back together. You remember how warm you felt with Javi’s arms enveloping you, holding you close to his chest - it felt like being home.

And you’ll never forget that night because that was the first time you felt something more than friendship stir to life within you. It just took you a while to realize that feeling was love.

“I’m sure Jackson would never do anything like that - that boy don’t have so much as a speeding ticket on his record,” your mother laughs to herself, her mentioning of your fiancé calling your attention back to her.

“Never do what?” you furrow your brow, trying to remember what she was talking about before you got lost in your memories. 

“Sneak into a movie—oh, has Javi met him?” the sudden change of topic almost gives you whiplash as your mother turns to Javier with excitement shining in her eyes, “He’s the sweetest boy. I’m sure y’all would get along really well.” Though her tone is optimistic, her smile appears strained - like she’s actively trying to be happy. 

“Yeah, he does seem…nice,” he drawls, the muscles in his jaw going taut. He drags his eyes to yours and all you can do is stare back, feeling slightly defensive. _Am I supposed to be sorry for being with Jackson? You_ left _me, remember?_ Your heart races and you down the rest of your wine before getting to your feet and gathering the plates on the table.

Javi stands up a moment later, offering quietly, “Here, let me do that.” You hesitate for a moment, but eventually nod your head and let him gather the plates while you take the empty wine glasses to the kitchen.

You make quick work of rinsing the dishes before placing them in the dishwasher, Javi silently handing you each one until there are none left. “Thanks,” you say as you turn to face him, leaning your hip against the counter. The cold surface sends a shiver up your spine as Javi inches closer to you, a pensive look dawning his features.

“Are you…happy, bonita?” he asks quietly, his head tilting to the side as he watches you carefully. He places his hand on the counter next to where yours is resting, mimicking your stance and leaning his hip against the counter.

 _Am I happy?_ You know your response should be something along the lines of, _of course, I’m happy – I’m getting married_. But for some reason, the words won’t form on your lips. You’re screaming them inside your head, telling yourself to spit them out – but you simply can’t. His gaze, though soft and patient, reaches into your very soul with a relentless grip, rendering you voiceless.

His fingers brush yours where they rest on the counter, the subtle touch making your breath hitch. He leans closer to you, his brow furrowing slightly, “Bonita?” he whispers and your eyes flutter closed, waiting for him to close the gap between you.

You hear him release a shaky breath, the warm air ghosting over your face – but nothing happens. And then, “Look at me,” he covers your hand with his own, his grip warm and steady.

His eyes are filled with a certain ferocity that makes your heart race as he repeats, “Are you happy?” His voice – barely above a whisper – is laced with a desperate plea for you to tell him the truth. 

_What are you doing to me?_

You’re trying _so hard_ to understand what’s happening in this moment you don’t even notice when your mother makes her way into the kitchen, “Before I forget–oh, sorry.” Your hand quickly flies out of Javi’s grasp like his touch has burned your skin, “Mom, you scared the shit out of me.” 

You place a hand on your chest, trying to calm the galloping of your heart – either from Javi’s closeness or from being startled by your mother’s presence, you’re not entirely sure. 

Javier clears his throat before saying, “I think I’m gonna go.” He walks over to where your mother is standing and pulls her in for a long embrace, “It was really great seeing you again, doña,” he plants a kiss on her cheek and she smiles sweetly at him. 

“You’re welcome here anytime, hun – day or night,” she kisses his cheek as well and pulls back, holding onto his arms as she looks up at him with affection clear on her features. Patting his cheek lightly, she murmurs, “Sweet boy, you look so tired. Promise me you’ll take good care of yourself.”

Her eyes appear glassy from unshed tears and Javi silently nods before pulling her in for another hug. He whispers something by her ear but you can’t make out the words. And it’s only then that you notice she’s holding what looks like a piece of cardstock in her hand as she holds it out for Javi to take.

“Here, you can be my plus-one,” she winks at him before turning to you, “I think I’m gonna head to bed. I don’t want you drivin’ anywhere after all that wine you drank, so you just mosey on up to your old bedroom for the night, OK?”

Javier smirks at you and you can’t hide the blush that rises to your cheeks, an almost eerie sense of nostalgia filling the room. You nod in response, “Get some rest, momma.” 

A moment later, you and Javier are left alone again, a heavy silence enveloping the two of you. He swipes his thumb over his bottom lip as he reads the cardstock your mother gave him, his features going slack in what appears to be a state of shock. 

“You’re getting married in _three weeks_?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Translations:**

_Doña_ \- kinda like Señora, but here I use it as like a term of endearment/respect 

_Bonita_ \- beautiful

 _Pendejo_ \- dumbass


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER IS AMAZING if i do say so myself 😂 seriously though, this is my favorite part so far and I hope y'all enjoy reading 💜

##  **_In fact no matter how deep I go into you it looks like the water is crystal clear_ **

**_~~~_ **

“Here you go, ma’am. Have a great day,” you offer a small smile to the elderly woman as you hand her the bouquet of flowers she just paid for. As soon as she steps out of the shop, your smile drops and you release an exhausted sigh, the stress from the past few days weighing heavily on your shoulders.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes, but all you see is the look of betrayal on Javi’s face when he discovered you were getting married in less than a month - two and half weeks from now, to be exact.

_“You’re getting married in three fucking weeks?” he repeats his question when you remain silent, your voice failing you. You wince at his tone, laced with accusation and defeat. His pain cuts deep into your very soul and you wish there was some way you could mitigate it._

_“I didn’t know how to tell you - I just-” you grimace, as if in physical pain from trying to come up with an excuse when in reality, there isn’t one. The truth is you were prolonging telling Javi that you were getting married so soon because you couldn’t stand the idea of him looking at you the way he is right now - like you’ve betrayed his trust._

_It’s even worse considering your knowledge of his feelings for you - like he gave you a blade in the form of his love and you turned around and stabbed him in the back with it._

_His gaze falls to the floor as he seems to get lost in his own thoughts, his chest rising and falling a bit more rapidly than a few moments ago. Your fingers itch to reach out and lift his chin so you can look into his eyes, but you think better of it when he clenches his jaw, his mouth forming a hard line._

_“Javi-” you step toward him, but without warning, he stalks past you and out the front door quicker than you can blink. You expect to hear the door slam behind him but instead you’re met with an eerie silence, the only sound being the ticking clock on the far side of the room._

_Dropping your head into your hand, your eyes land on the wedding invitation, lying crumpled on the ground. And when the tears fall down your cheeks, you don’t bother wiping them away, knowing there’s no use in sticking a band-aid over a gushing wound._

As you make your final flower delivery to one of the only funeral homes in town, you find yourself sighing with relief. 

You’re about halfway down the road that leads to the main street where your mother’s florist shop is located when suddenly there’s a loud clanking sound. The delivery van jerks violently, causing it to veer slightly off the road until coming to a rough halt. 

_Are you fucking kidding me?_ You groan loudly and bang your head against the steering wheel, letting it rest there as you release a dry chuckle. “Of course,” you mutter to yourself as you jump out of the van and start the short walk to the shop. 

A few minutes later, you’re fishing your keys out of your jeans’ pocket, feeling slightly winded from walking in the Texas heat, despite it being evening. In your frustrated attempt to yank the keys from your pocket, they end up falling out of your hand, landing on the ground with a clink.

You tilt your head up, sighing at the stars above, your hands balling into fists at your sides. _Can you just - give me a break? Please?_

“Rough day?” a rich baritone asks from a few feet away. Your heart leaps in your throat when you see Javi walking up to you, taking a drag from his cigarette. You track his steps as he gets closer to where you’re standing, your keys still lying at your feet. 

“Javi,” is all you manage to say when he stops right in front of you, the scent of smoke and leather filling your senses. One of his eyebrows quirks up and he lifts the cigarette back to his mouth, holding it between his lips as he bends down and picks up your keys.

He silently holds his hand out to you, your keys resting in the center of his palm. You clear your throat before mumbling, “thanks,” plucking the keys from his hand so as not to touch his skin, afraid of what might happen with the slightest contact.

As you pull your hand back, his fingers brush the inside of your wrist, leaving goosebumps on your skin. Swallowing hard, you watch as he takes one final drag of the filter before dropping it to the ground and stamping it under his boot. 

“What are you doing here, Javi?” you turn your back to him, placing the key in the lock and pushing the shop door open with ease. You hold the door for him to follow you inside. With the way your last few encounters have gone, you don’t want to risk someone you know seeing the two of you having such an…intimate exchange. 

“I, uh - wanted to come apologize, for leaving the way I did the other night. But the shop was closed. I was actually just leaving when you showed up.” He stuffs his hands in his pants’ pockets, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Yeah, I was just out making a delivery and the van stalled so I had to walk back here to call a cab.” He swipes his tongue along his lip and a blush rises to your cheeks when he catches you staring.

“I can give you a ride home,” he offers with a slight shrug, crossing his arms over his chest. You open your mouth to protest but find that you can’t think of a valid reason for him _not_ to drive you home. 

Or at least, you can’t think of a reason that you can say aloud without making things even more complicated between the two of you.

“Okay, thanks…again,” you grin when he chuckles, the sound resonating in your chest. You tell yourself it’s just because you haven’t heard it in a long time. He was your best friend for most of your life, afterall. It’s okay to admit you’ve missed him.

Right?

~~~

 _What are you doing, estúpido? She’s engaged to another man, remember?_ Javier thinks to himself as he sits in the driver’s seat next to you, his eyes on the road and his thoughts scattered.

He hasn’t been able to sleep in days - not since he found out you were to be married in just a couple of weeks. He knew it was going to happen eventually, but not so damn soon - not when he just got you back. Though deep down he knows you were never really his to begin with.

But, _fuck_ , if it wasn’t the most heart-wrenching piece of information he’s received in his life. And that’s including all the horrible shit he witnessed in Colombia. He never thought he’d be so affected by a few tiny words printed on a piece of paper, but it sure as hell was a rude awakening if he’d ever received one.

_Three weeks. That’s it. “You’re getting married in three fucking weeks?” Javier hadn’t intended to say those words out loud, but he’s too busy trying to process the fact that you would soon be tied to a man - a man who isn’t him - in such a short span of time._

_Javi barely registers your response, his thoughts focused on the anxious look in your eyes. You probably think he’s upset with you - that your keeping the date of your wedding to yourself is some subtle form of betrayal. But that’s so far from the truth that it makes his chest cave in just from seeing the pained look in your eyes._

_In this moment, the only person he feels anger towards is himself. How could he be so stupid, as to think you’d somehow known all these years how he’s felt about you, let alone wait for him to come back?_ If _he ever came back, considering all the close calls he encountered in the hunt for Escobar. And he had the scars to prove it, both physically and…well, let’s just say he doesn’t go more than a couple nights without startling awake from some kind of nightmare._

_But this - this is a different kind of pain and he has no idea how to cope with this type of…loss. He suddenly feels like the walls are closing in around him and if he doesn’t get out soon, he’s not sure what he’ll do. He just knows he can’t be here right now - not with you looking at him like he’s some wounded animal._

_“Javi-” and that’s what gets him rushing past you and out the door - hearing you say his name with such sadness and apprehension, he can barely stand to meet your eyes._

_He doesn’t stop until he’s in the cab of his car, alone in a deafening silence. His hands flex and relax repeatedly around the steering wheel, but it isn’t enough to quell the storm of misery that’s quickly building inside him._

_“FUCK!” he shouts at the top of his lungs, the sound reverberating off the windows and making his ears ring. Shouting a string of curses, he brings his fist down on the steering wheel several times until his hand is throbbing with pain. Throwing his head back against the headrest, he angles his head to look back at the front door of the house._

You should go back and apologize, asshole. _With his chest heaving and his head pounding, he releases a shaky breath as he runs a hand through his hair, tugging slightly. “Fuck,” he breathes, jamming his key into the ignition and pulling out of the driveway without a second glance at the house._

Bringing the car to a halt in front of your house, he turns off the engine, leaving his key in the ignition. The two of you sit in silence for a moment, watching the shadows of tree branches being cast on the walls of the house. 

“I didn’t even want this house, you know. Jackson’s aunt left it to him when she passed away a few years ago and - we had already been living together for a few months when she passed. She hated me actually, always said I wasn’t good enough for her ‘Jack-Jack’,” you chuckle dryly, “so it didn’t feel right - living in the house of a woman who hated me so deeply. I didn’t really have a say in the matter though.”

You face Javi then, the look in your eyes saying more than any amount of words can convey. “It’s kinda strange, living in a house that doesn’t feel like home,” you whisper, as if afraid someone might hear. Perhaps the ghost of the woman Javi almost regrets is already dead, so he can’t tell her to go to hell for thinking you’re anything less than a beautiful soul.

You look away, rubbing your temples with an exhausted sigh, “Sorry, it’s…been a long day.”

He hums in understanding, knowing all too well the type of exhaustion you’re feeling. You offer him a tired smile, “Thanks for the ride, Javi. I really appreciate it.” 

_Anything for you, bonita_. “Of course,” and his heart aches from seeing the dark circles under your eyes. _Has she been losing sleep too?_

“Do you wanna come in for a bit? I think I have a bottle of whiskey stashed away somewhere,” the corner of your mouth quirks up and his heart nearly flies out of his chest. He’s surprised by your invitation, but he somehow manages a soft, “sure, bonita,” and the smile you give him in response reminds him so much of the days before he left for Colombia - before he fucked everything up between you.

The walk up the path to your front door is a silent one, both of you buzzing with an energy that neither of you wish to acknowledge.

As you push open the front door, you tell him, “Sorry it’s kind of a mess in here. I haven’t had time to clean up,” but Javi waves you off. He’s not concerned with his surroundings or how well-kept your house looks.

He only sees you.

Furrowing his brow, he almost laughs when you flip a light on, illuminating the space. If a jacket tossed over the back of the sofa and some papers scattered on the kitchen table is considered a “mess,” _his_ place is basically a trash dump with empty bottles littering every surface and dirty laundry scattered over the furniture. 

But you’ve always been something of a perfectionist, so it’s no surprise to him that you consider _this_ a pigsty. He smiles at the fact that at least some things haven’t changed.

“What are you laughing at?” you ask when you walk back into the living room, carrying a mostly full bottle of Jack Daniels and a couple drinking glasses. A smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you pour some of the amber liquid into each glass.

Javi accepts the drink and raises his glass in a mock salute before taking a sip. “Nothing. I was just remembering how much of a cleanfreak you are,” he teases, leaning his shoulder against the wall. He takes another drink to mask the chuckle in the back of his throat when you roll your eyes at him.

“So what, I like to keep things tidy. At least I know where everything is and I don’t waste an hour looking for a clean pair of socks,” you aim a smirk his way, bringing your glass to your lips. 

“OK, in my defense, my washing machine was broken so I hadn’t done laundry for like a week. I wasn’t about to wear a pair of dirty socks,” he tries to keep a straight face but your grin has him breaking instantly. “I still, to this day, have no idea what happens in the first hour of _Count Dracula_ thanks to your ultimately mismatched socks,” your words turn into laughter and Javi commits the airy sound to memory.

When your shared chuckles die down, the air in the room seems to shift as the two of you silently finish your drinks. Then Javi asks, “Do you ever miss it? The way things…used to be?” He holds his breath, not entirely sure of which answer he’s hoping for. 

You release a long, deep breath as you set your now-empty glass on the coffee table by your knees. When your eyes find his again, your expression is unreadable, save for the way you gnaw your bottom lip - a nervous habit the two of you share after having spent so much time together growing up.

“I do,” you answer quietly, wrapping your arms around yourself, “but I shouldn’t.” Your gaze falls to the floor, a deep furrow settling in your brow.

He sets his glass down and takes a couple steps forward, closing the gap between you. He gently lifts your chin until your eyes meet his. “Why shouldn’t you?” he whispers, his heart hammering against his rib cage and he wonders if your heart is beating just as fast.

Your response is barely audible when you say, “You know why.” And he does, but he wants - no, he needs to hear you say it.

He needs to know what the hell is happening between you - or at least, what’s been stirring within him for _years_ \- and that it isn’t one-sided. He’s been restless ever since the day you kissed - actually, since the day he left for Colombia. But if you tell him once and for all that you don’t love him - at least not in that way - then maybe, just _maybe_ , he can get some goddamned rest.

And he could resign to the fact that you’ll never be his.

You place your hand on his chest and he expects you to push him away, but your hand simply rests there, rising and falling along with the rapid tempo of his breathing. Your eyes frantically search his before falling to his lips.

He’s not sure who moves first, but a moment later your lips are connected, hands flying into each other’s hair as you move in sync with one another. It’s needy and desperate and it’s only when you break apart a moment later to catch your breaths that he realizes you’re pinned between his body and the kitchen table.

You catch him by surprise when you start unbuttoning his shirt, your mouth capturing his in a feverish kiss. He slides his hands to the backs of your thighs and lifts you, barely managing to swipe the papers to the floor, before setting you down onto the wooden surface.

You release a moan as he rocks his hips into you, the sound of the table legs scraping against the tile only adding to the sexual haze enveloping the two of you. He strokes your tongue with his own and you wrap your legs around his waist as he continues to move against you - both of you still fully clothed and panting.

He lowers his mouth to just below your jaw, sucking the skin just over your pulse point. “Javi, please,” you beg and it’s like a heavenly song landing on his ears - it’s a sound he’ll never forget. He pulls his mouth from you to look into your eyes as he brushes strands of hair away from your face. 

“Dime que es lo quieres, bonita,” he murmurs against your lips, his eyes moving frantically between yours. _Please don’t push me away_ , he thinks when your legs loosen their grip on his waist.

“I want-” your lips smack together like you’re second-guessing your next words. But Javi wants to hear your every thought and desire, so he rolls his hips into yours a little more forcefully and your mouth falls open on a moan, your nails digging into his back even through the material of his shirt.

“Tell me,” he repeats in english, peppering kisses along your jaw and throat as he brings a hand to one of your breasts. You release a gasp when he lightly pinches your hardened bud, “ _Fuck_ , I - I want your mouth on me, Javi.”

And with the way your legs grow more taut around his waist, he knows exactly what you mean. Giving you one last hungry kiss, he slowly moves down your body, your legs hanging halfway off the table. He slides your shirt up to expose your belly and plants a few kisses at the base of your ribs, making a trail to your navel where his molten eyes look up to meet your half-lidded eyes. 

He’s practically salivating at the thought of tasting you, only ever having his imagination to go off of when he was - well, getting _himself_ off on those lonely nights in Bogotá. 

He undoes your jeans and has them halfway down your thighs by the time you raise yourself on your elbows, biting your lip as you watch him swiftly yet delicately free your legs from the rough material. 

He drags his eyes up your body, covered in nothing but your panties, your shit pushed almost all the way up your torso, leaving your breasts practically spilling out of your bra. His finger gently strokes the inside of your knee, making you twitch, “Where exactly do you want my mouth, bonita?” he asks, his voice a low timbre.

Your eyes darken as he places his pointer finger on the area he just touched, “Here?” You shake your head and his hand glides up your thigh, stopping about midway, “Here?” You shake your head again, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

He slowly drops to his knees before you, planting a kiss to the inside of your knee as he pushes your thighs further apart, his eyes never leaving yours. Licking his lips, he rests his palm on the juncture between your hip and thigh. “How about-” the pad of his thumb ghosts over the wet spot on your panties, barely applying any pressure yet still making you groan, “here?”

But his patience has worn off and he doesn’t wait for an answer as he moves the thin material to the side and licks a path from your silky folds up to your clit. The cry he pulls from you sends fire flowing through his veins and he makes it his mission to have you release a symphony of moans that he’s only ever heard in his dreams.

His tongue circles your clit while the pads of his fingers tease your entrance, but he wants to go deeper - feel every part of you he can reach. Lifting your calf, he raises your leg so as to plant your foot onto the table, giving him much better access to your center. 

Your hand flies to his hair as he sucks your clit into his mouth and slowly inserts two fingers into your throbbing entrance, making you gasp. The sound of your juices squelching as his fingers move in and out of you has him aching to bury his cock inside your heat. But you taste so fucking good, he never wants to come up for air.

“ _God_ , Javi - s-so good,” you whimper, tugging viciously at his hair and he looks up to admire the sight before him. You have one hand palming your breast, your mouth agape and lips swollen from biting down so hard. _Even falling apart, she’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on_ , he thinks as he crooks his fingers inside you, watching in awe as you arch your back off the table and plunge your other hand into his hair.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” you chant over and over as he repeats the move a few more times, bringing you so close to the edge your legs start to tremble. He sucks your clit hard one more time before quickly lowering his head and laving at your folds with a deep moan as you writhe beneath him.

You practically sing his name as you come undone from his incessant ministrations, your voice turning into a weak rasp. He keeps his mouth on you the whole time, greedily taking everything you give him as you come down from your high. 

He replaces your panties and plants lazy kisses to your inner thighs before making his way back up your body, leaving a trail of wet kisses all over your skin. You have one arm draped over your eyes while the other is balled into a fist as it rests on your chest, rising and falling with each of your slowing breaths.

“You taste so fucking sweet, bonita - better than I imagined,” he nuzzles his face against your neck, trying to get you to put your arm down so he can see your eyes. But the longer you stay in that position without so much as budging, the more anxious he gets.

And then you release a dreadful sob that makes his stomach drop, “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” he asks, his voice dripping with concern. _Oh, fuck, what did I do?_

He brings a hand to your cheek to wipe away a tear that escapes and you pull away from his touch like he’s burned you. Pushing him off of you, you sit up and slide off the table in a hurry, tugging your shirt down as you grab your jeans off the floor.

“Will you talk to me, bonita?” Javi asks, his tone coming off harsher than he intended. You finish doing the clasp on your jeans before facing him, your eyes glistening with fresh tears threatening to spill over any second.

“What’s wrong is I just cheated on my fiancé in our own home, Javi,” you blink and the tears in your eyes barely reach your cheek before you’re furiously wiping them away. “How am I supposed to look him in the eye after what we just did? After you-” your eyes fall to the floor where the papers that once decorated the kitchen table lay scattered everywhere. You drop your head in your hand, balling it into a fist and banging it against your forehead a few times as you whisper, “How could I do this to him?” 

Javi takes a step toward you, but you put a hand up, halting him where he stands, “Don’t - I can’t… _think_ when you’re close to me. Just,” you turn away from him, squatting down to gather the papers on the floor, “you should go.” Your voice is distant, like your brain has switched to autopilot, leaving you nearly void of all emotion. 

He remains frozen, trying to catch up to the shift in your mood. One minute you were shouting his name through waves of pleasure and the next, you can barely stand to look at him. 

It _can’t_ end like this, with you giving him the cold shoulder and pushing him away - not after what just happened.

“Bonita-” he reaches for your arm to help you to your feet but you jerk your arm away before he even comes into contact with your skin. “I told you to go. Please, just leave and-” your lip trembles and you take a deep breath before plunging the knife straight into his heart, “don’t come back.” 

And if he was a good man, he would’ve walked right out the door and left you alone for good, like he had originally promised that day he showed up in your front yard. 

But he can’t even remember the last time he considered himself a good person - if he ever was one.

Before you can walk away from him, he grips both of your arms, tugging you against him with ferocious desperation. “Tell me why then. If you want me out of your life, give me a good reason,” his eyes are wild as he searches yours - the fear of losing you growing more severe by the second.

You lift your chin in a show of defiance before answering, “Because I’m with Jackson - I _love_ Jackson,” but if the hollowness in your words doesn’t give you away, the weary look in your eyes sure as hell does.

Javi grits his teeth at the mention of _him_ , “Ese pendejo ni te conoce,” he seethes as he pulls you even closer to him. “And if you really do love him” he fights back a scowl as the phrase leaves his mouth, but he quickly recovers, his fiery gaze landing on your mouth, “then why was it _my_ name falling from your lips while you came on _my_ tongue?”

Your breath hitches and the way you tremble in his arms tells him he’s hit the mark. But then your expression falls and your eyes grow misty again as you tell him in a small voice, “He’s always been good to me. I…owe him so much.” A fresh tear rolls down your cheek and Javi loosens his grip on your arms, bringing a hand to your face and wiping your skin with the pad of his thumb.

“You don’t owe him shit, bonita. There’s nothing he could’ve done that you weren’t already capable of doing yourself,” he promises, his voice softening. But his words seem to trigger something within you as you aim a pointed stare his way, “That’s right. I did have to learn to do things for myself…because _you_ left.”

He flinches back, but you grip his arm before he can step too far, “You say I don’t owe him shit, but…how would you know? You weren’t here.” Releasing your hold on him, you shake your head slowly as you take a step back, “You weren’t _here_ , Javi,” your voice breaking. 

And as you shoulder past him towards the hallway, never once looking back at him, Javier finally understands the true reason for your reluctance to even be friends with him. It’s not because you don’t love him. Though, even that truth is questionable at this point. 

No, it’s because you can’t trust that he won’t abandon you again. You can’t trust _him_. So in the end he supposes he was right. 

He only has himself to blame.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Translations:**

_estúpido_ \- idiot

 _Dime que es lo quieres, bonita_ \- Tell me what you want, beautiful

 _Ese pendejo ni te conoce_ \- That asshole doesn’t even know/understand you


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's pretty angsty and there’s a bit more Spanish but, as always, i put translations at the bottom; thanks for reading, loves! 😘💗

##  _**We don’t know how this could end / Let’s hope it won’t have to** _

_**~~~** _

Warm water streams down your back, gliding down your waist, then your legs, and ultimately pooling at your feet. You’ve been meaning to fix the clogged drain for the past week, but your mind has been occupied by more important things. ****

Things like your upcoming wedding and all the details that need finalizing.

Things like your mother’s flower shop, which is busier now more than any other time of the year, with the end of spring bleeding into summer days.

And things like Javier Peña, your former best friend - and the man you cheated on your fiancé with.

You rest your forehead against the shower tiles, their cold surface a striking contrast to the water raining down on you. The water’s up to your ankles now, your feet completely submerged in the soapy water. 

Jackson’s coming back today, your wedding taking place in exactly 6 days, 8 hours, and 51 minutes. Though you know you should be excited for such a life-changing event, you feel nothing but anxiety and a slight sense of dread. 

The water sloshes around your shins as you turn around to rinse your hair. When you’re finished you let your head fall back, the steady stream flowing over your face and dripping down your body.

Everything around you grows faint, your senses replaced with fluid-like static. You hold your breath as you stay in that position for some time and let your mind drift to all the things you have to do before the day of your wedding. 

Confirm with the caterers that there will be enough food for your small gathering. Make sure the space you and Jackson rented for the reception is properly cleaned and ready to be adorned with flowers and cloth that match your color scheme. Double-check that they have plenty of chairs…and tables…

_Javi slides his hands to the backs of your thighs and lifts you, barely managing to swipe the papers to the floor, before setting you down onto the wooden surface._

_A moan falls from your lips as he rocks his hips into you, the sound of the table legs scraping against the tile only adding to the sexual haze enveloping the two of you. He strokes your tongue with his own and you wrap your legs around his waist as he continues to move against you - both of you still fully clothed and panting._

_He lowers his mouth to just below your jaw, sucking the skin just over your pulse point. “Javi, please,” you beg and the moan he releases against your skin sends shockwaves throughout your whole body. The table beneath you - at first alarmingly cold - now feels like a furnace pressing into your back, your skin burning with need._

_He pulls his mouth from you, his eyes boring into yours as he brushes strands of hair away from your face. “Dime que es lo quieres, bonita,” his lips brush against yours, warm and soft._

_And suddenly you know exactly what you want from him._

The water grows cold and you nearly choke on a gasp, your body shivering violently. You shut the water off and step out of the tub as soon as you catch your breath, your knees shaking with every step.

But it’s the throbbing between your legs that’s hardest to subdue.

~

A few hours later you’re preparing dinner when a familiar car honk reaches your ears, your stomach turning. _Here we go_ , you steel yourself as you make your way to the living room just in time to see Jackson walk through the front door and toss his duffle bag on the floor.

“There’s my girl,” he smiles, enveloping you in his arms and planting a kiss to your lips, his skin cool from being in the night air - no doubt because he was driving with the windows down like he always does.

“Hey,” you offer simply, your voice smaller than usual. But that’s all you can say without breaking down completely, your stomach in knots. He doesn’t seem to notice your nervous demeanor as he cradles your face, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Missed you,” he grins and you try to return it, but the tears burning at the backs of your eyes make it difficult. _I have to tell him the truth_ , you think as a single tear rolls down your cheek. He pouts and brushes it away with his thumb. 

“Aw baby, don’t cry. I’m home now and I ain’t goin’ anywhere for a long while,” he winks at you and you sigh, releasing yourself from his hold. “What is it, baby?” he finally asks, his brow furrowing in concern.

“Jackson, I…have to tell you something,” he watches you expectantly as you gnaw your bottom lip, wrapping your arms around yourself. “You know that guy, Javier…from the bar a couple weeks ago?”

His expression morphs into one of confusion, “Uh, yeah. What about him?” He takes a seat on the sofa, relaxing into the cushion with a tired groan, seemingly exhausted after the long drive from his brother’s ranch.

 _No turning back now._ “I know him,” you blurt out, your pulse pounding in your ears. Clearing your throat, you elaborate, “We…grew up together, actually.” And then you wait for what feels like hours while Jackson tries to put two and two together.

“But - then, why’d you act like he was a stranger at the bar?” he eyes you curiously, but you can see everything starting to click into place as he sits up straighter. “Did…something happen while I was gone?” his voice is eerily calm as he leans forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees.

You sit on the chair across from him, taking a deep breath before you confess - and hopefully by doing so, remove the weight that’s been slowly crushing you.

~~~

“You saw my cards, didn’t you?” Javi asks his father, taking another drag of his cigarette as his father, Chucho, collects his playing cards and starts shuffling them for the next round of poker. 

“You saying I need to cheat to win?” Chucho raises an eyebrow at his son, fanning the cards in on themselves without looking at them. He watches him with a pensive look on his face and Javi knows there’s something on the old man’s mind. 

He releases a sigh before asking, “¿Que tienes, Papá?” his father takes a long drink from his bottle of beer before aiming a pointed look Javi’s way, “¿Que tienes, _tú_ , mijito? You’ve been sulking around here ever since you got back from Colombia. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re home, mijito, really,” his expression is sincere and Javier knows he means it. “Pero…te veo tan…deprimido.”

Javier drops his gaze to the almost-empty glass of whiskey in his hand, his father’s gaze boring a hole into his forehead. _My bonita’s getting married in less than a week - forgive me if I’m not skipping around shooting rainbows out my ass._

“I’m fine, dad. It’s just been hard adjusting to normal life again, after being away for so long.” _Too long, apparently._ He scratches his brow, still avoiding his father’s gaze. But Chucho sees right through him - he always has. 

“It’s because of her, isn’t it?” he doesn’t even have to say your name, knowing full well there’s only one person capable of affecting his son so deeply. Afterall, the two of you were practically inseparable growing up.

Javi drags a hand down his face, shaking his head, “Papá-” he starts but Chucho cuts him off. “No, no, don’t deny it. Te conozco, Javier. I also know that you’ve been in love with that girl since the two of you were teenagers - maybe even before,” his voice is steady, confident. 

Javier furrows his brow and opens his mouth to speak but can’t seem to find his voice. His father leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he waits for his son to respond, his gaze never wavering. 

“I - you knew? This whole time?” Javi finally asks, his voice raw with an emotion he can’t quite name. At first he thinks maybe it is fear, but as the corner of Chucho’s mouth quirks up in a knowing grin, he realizes it’s a sense of relief that has a lump forming in his throat. 

“Of course I knew. ¿Crees que estoy ciego, o qué?” he chuckles and all Javier can do is slump back in his seat as his father continues, “I figured it out that night she called crying because some pendejo broke her heart and as soon as you hung up the phone, you were running around the house like a madman, looking for the keys to my truck so you could drive across town to _‘your bonita’s’_ house.” He makes air quotes around the last phrase and Javier’s face instantly grows warm.

“Yeah, well, that was a long time ago and…she’s with someone else now,” Javi downs the rest of his drink before standing from his chair to go pour himself another glass of whiskey. Bringing the tumbler to his lips, he mumbles, “Pretty sure she never wants to see me again anyway,” before taking a drink of the amber liquid. 

“Why?” his father squints suspiciously “¿Qué hiciste?” he leans forward, his eyes laser-focused on Javier’s features, though he still refuses to meet his father’s gaze. _I fucked up, as usual_. He answers with a simple, “I left.” After a moment of silence, he forces himself to look Chucho in the eye, his expression puzzled. 

“Yes, but…you _had_ to, for your job. Surely she understood that,” he watches Javier walk across the room, his feet dragging. He releases a heavy sigh as he sits in his chair again, “I didn’t exactly _tell_ her I was leaving. I - left her a note,” he reaches for his cigarette in the ashtray, but the light’s pretty much gone out after not touching it for so long. _Perfect_.

He reaches into his shirt pocket for another cigarette, placing it between his lips just as Chucho leans forward and smacks Javi in the back of the head, the cigarette falling out of his mouth when he shouts, “Ow!”

Chucho leans back in his seat, shaking his head, “A pinche note?! _Pendejo_ \- por eso no te quiere ver ni en pintura. No wonder she’d barely speak to me any time I saw her when I went into town. I’m surprised she even invited me to her wedding,” Javier winces at the reminder but Chucho isn’t going to let him off that easy. “How could you do that to her, eh?” his father curses, a look of disappointment plaguing his features. Javier knows that look all too well, though he hasn’t seen it since he was an adolescent.

Rubbing the back of his head with a hiss of pain, he groans, “I - didn’t want to ruin our…last days together.” Tears are stinging the corners of his eyes but he’s not sure if it’s because of his father’s assault or from the realization of just how stupid he truly was all those years ago. 

His job at the DEA had always been a dangerous one, but at the time, the risks were far greater in Colombia. As soon as he got the assignment, he knew there was no way you’d take the news of his leaving lightly. He was terrified beyond reason that day and the only person he wanted to talk to was you.

But by the time he’d arrived at your house and saw how bright your smile was, laughing about something that happened at the shop that day, he couldn’t bring himself to tell you he’d be in Colombia by the end of the week. He couldn’t bear the thought of dimming that brightness in your eyes.

“So instead of telling her in person, you left her - _tu mejor amiga_ \- a pinche note, no más,” his father shakes his head again with an incredulous look on his face, ticking his jaw, “What did you think would happen, Javier? I - all this time, I assumed the two of you were exchanging letters or speaking over the phone or _something_.” Javier stares down at the table, his knee bouncing anxiously as his father continues to chastise him, “But you just - abandoned her.” 

And that truth is what finally sets him off.

Bolting out of his seat, he shouts, “I know! OK? I fucking _know_. Do you think I enjoyed doing that to her? That it didn’t completely destroy me t-to leave without saying anything?” his vision blurs slightly but he pushes through, finally acknowledging the biggest mistake of his life. “I was a coward for doing what I did - un cobarde _tan_ desgraciado, I couldn’t even look her in the eye and tell her-” he braces his hands on the back of the chair, leaning his weight against it.

He grips the wood so tightly, his knuckles turn white, “…tell her I _loved_ her because then…I wouldn’t have been able to leave.” He looks up at Chucho, his expression somewhat softened at hearing the pain in Javi’s voice when he says, “No podía hacerlo, Papá.” His head falls between his shoulders and he tries to get his breathing under control. 

_How the fuck could I do that to her?_

He wasted so much time burying himself in work, booze, and strange women to fill the void that you left in his heart. But none of it could compare to you - to having you in his arms. After all this time, he _still_ feels the same all-consuming fire ignite in his veins whenever you’re in the same room as him. Sometimes he wishes he could snuff it out. God knows he tried, but - it’s like a piece of you is permanently embedded in his soul.

And if he lost you completely, he’d lose a piece of himself as well.

A heavy hand comes to rest on Javier’s shoulder and he raises his head to see his father’s stern expression, “You can’t change what happened - it’s too late for that,” Javier swallows hard, Chucho’s words twisting the knife that’s been buried in his chest since the day he left for Colombia. 

But then he squeezes Javier’s shoulder, asking, “Entonces ¿qué vas a hacer, hijo?” Javi furrows his brow in confusion, the alcohol in his system fogging his mind. “What do you mean?” he asks and his father shakes his shoulder a bit, “I _mean_ are you going to go say all of this to Y/N so she knows the whole story? O la vas a dejar ir? Because this time, será _para siempre_.” Chucho tilts his head as if to say, _think about it_ , before patting his son’s shoulder a couple times, then turning to walk down the hallway.

And for the first time in his life, Javier has no fucking clue what he’s supposed to do.

~~~

Jackson remains quiet while you tell him everything that’s happened since Javier came back into your life - the day you reunited and he confessed his true feelings for you, later that night at the bar, the dinner at your mother’s house, and just a few nights ago when he drove you home.

But you kept the intimate details of _that_ particular encounter to yourself. You know it’s not right and that he deserves to know the whole truth, but…you can’t bring yourself to do it. And that weight remains heavy in the pit of your stomach as Jackson processes everything you’ve just told him.

He hasn’t moved from his spot on the couch, his elbows resting on his thighs as he leans forward. One of his hands rests on his forehead, shielding his eyes from you. _Say something_ , you wish he would get angry and yell at you or do _something_ to convey whatever emotion he’s feeling right now. You’re not sure how much longer you can take his silence.

Then he finally looks at you, his eyes laced with silent fury, “He’s the reason you’ve been actin’ so different lately,” he states, his voice low. You furrow your brow and open your mouth to speak but he raises his hand, shutting you up instantly. “It wasn’t a question. I just-” he drags a hand down his face, sighing, “I just can’t believe my sweet girl lied to me,” he murmurs more to himself than to you.

 _Sweet girl_. Up until now, you’ve never really thought twice about the term of endearment. But for some reason, it makes your skin crawl - _is that all he sees me as? His “sweet girl”?_

“I’m so sorry, Jackson. I have no excuse-” you start to plead but he doesn’t seem to be listening as he talks over you, “I mean, you’ve been a little more on edge lately, so I feel like I shoulda known…but I just assumed you were stressin’ about the weddin’ and all.” He sits up board-straight all of a sudden as he comes to some sort of realization, “He kissed you, didn’t he?”

You knew it would come up eventually, but the question still makes your stomach drop, “Yes, but-” he cuts you off again as he gets to his feet, “That son of a bitch. If I ever see him again-” he clenches his fists at his sides and you rush to finish your sentence before he can interrupt you again, “I kissed him back, Jackson. I’m not some damsel in distress being taken advantage of.” 

Resting your hands on your hips, you forget for a moment that you’re supposed to be repentant, and instead you’re growing more irritated at his tone. The two of you have never really fought before, aside from the occasional bickering over whose turn it is to do a miniscule chore like emptying the dishwasher. This side of him is completely foreign to you and you’re not sure what to expect.

He clenches his jaw before taking a step toward you, “I don’t want you seein’ him again. He’s done enough damage to you as it is.” 

_Damage? What the_ hell _is he implying?_

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you cross your arms over your chest, lifting your chin to look him in the eye. You stare at each other for a long minute before he releases a frustrated sigh and walks around you to grab a beer out of the fridge. “I just mean, you used to be so sweet and timid but now you’re all…bossy.” You catch a slight grimace on his lips before he takes a long swig from the glass bottle.

You have no idea how to respond to him without verbally ripping his head off. It’s not like your personality has changed overnight. Sure, being around Javier has awoken a slightly more _passionate_ side of you that’s been dormant for some time, but you’ve always had a little fire in your veins. Though you suppose you’ve never really let it out around Jackson until today, when you’re probably the most stressed you’ve ever been in your life.

“Well, I’m sorry if I’m not all giggles and warm hugs. I’ve had quite a few things to deal with lately,” you quip, your hands waving in the air as you say _“giggles.”_ He purses his lips like he wants to say something back but is holding his tongue. “What?” you snap, your blood starting to boil under his judgmental stare.

“This guy - Javier - he’s changed you into somethin’ you’re not, baby. Can’t you see that? I don’t - I don’t want you spendin’ anymore time with him and that’s that,” he chugs the remnants of his beer before slamming it down on the kitchen table with a resounding crack.

You flinch but only for a second before recoiling, “I wasn’t _planning_ on seeing him again.” The annoyance in your tone is difficult to mask but it’s impossible to contain your frustration any longer. “And you can’t restrict me from doing things, Jackson. That’s not how this relationship - this _marriage_ \- is gonna work.” You gesture between the two of you, your other hand perched on your hip. “I’m sorry for lying to you about Javier - truly, I am sorry. But that doesn’t mean you get to police my every move now.”

He shakes his head, barely sparing you a glance as he snatches the bottle up and throws it into the garbage can a few feet away, “Darlin’, let’s get somethin’ straight. You’re gonna be my wife, which means everything you do falls onto _my_ shoulders. All I’m askin’ is for you to respect my position here.“ 

_Position? What the fuck is he even talking about?_ You open your mouth to speak just as a bright light shines in your eyes through the windows. You glance around Jackson’s shoulders to see a familiar set of headlights shutting off as the car is parked in your driveway. 

Your eyes nearly bug out of your head when you realize it’s Javier sitting in the driver’s seat, his eyes finding yours almost instantly.

You barely have time to react before Jackson’s turning to look out the window, squinting his eyes to get a better look at who’s just arrived. He whips his head back and finds your eyes full of panic. “Jackson, don’t. I’ll go tell him to leave, OK?” You try to reason with him but the look in his eyes is one you’ve never seen in him before - it’s pure unadulterated rage.

“You think I’m gonna let you go talk to him _alone_?” he scoffs at you before turning on his heel and yanking the front door open. 

_Shit_.

~~~

 _Why the fuck did I think this was a good idea?_ Javier thinks to himself as he sits in his car, having just parked in your driveway. He sees the red pickup truck instantly and surmises that your fiancé just got back from who-the-fuck-cares, so not only does he have to convince you to hear him out. Now he has to deal with _that_ pendejo too.

After his little heart-to-heart with his dad, he forced himself to sober up, knowing he’d eventually find himself driving over to your house even if it was just so you could tell him to go to hell. 

With his hands still on the steering wheel, he looks up at the front window to find the curtains pulled back, allowing him to see inside the living room. His eyes instantly find yours and his heart rate picks up when he sees the obvious signs of distress on your features. The fear in your eyes becomes more clear when he sees the silhouette of a man - Jackson - turning abruptly and opening the front door with a forceful pull that makes the window shake.

Javier’s instincts kick into hyperdrive when he sees the feral look on the other man’s face and he jumps out of the car, his muscles taut and ready for a fight. “What the fuck are you doin’ here, asshole?” Jackson shouts, charging towards him with purpose. 

Javier raises his hands in a gesture of peace but remains on his toes in case this pendejo decides to throw the first punch, “Look, I just wanna talk to her. I’m not here to fight.” But Jackson doesn’t slow his stride as he shoves Javier’s chest, sending him stumbling back, his ass hitting the car door. 

Jackson grabs him by his leather jacket and Javi grips his wrist in an attempt to free himself but the man has him in a death grip. “You stupid son of a bitch. What’d you think? That she was gonna leave me for your sorry ass?” he sneers and Javier clenches his jaw as the pendejo seethes, “She’s _mine_. Understand? Stay the fuck away from her.” He has his other fist pulled back like he’s winding for a punch and Javi freezes only for a second.

But the way he says _“she’s mine”_ \- like you’re some kind of prized possession - has his blood boiling, and his intention to _not_ physically harm this jackass flies out the fucking window. 

Sliding a hand between his own and Jackson’s, he twists his arm and throws his elbow back into the other man’s face. Javi let’s him fall to the ground, still holding tight to Jackson’s arm. It’s a maneuver he’s had to use a few times in his line of work, and it never seems to fail in getting his opponent to fall right on their ass.

Jackson shouts in pain, blood seeping through his nose as Javi twists his wrist in an unforgiving grip, “I said…I just wanna talk… _pinche cabrón_ ,” he says through gritted teeth. _It’d be so easy to break this asshole’s arm right now_ , Javier considers until he hears you shout behind him, “Javier, stop! Let him go!”

He glances at you over his shoulder, “He fucking started it,” he growls, tightening his grip on Jackson’s arm as he squirms in pain. You nod your head cautiously, placing your hand on Javi’s shoulder as you calmly state, “I know. I know, but…just let him go, OK? Please, Javi,” your eyes plead with him to release his hold and he hesitates for a few long seconds before finally letting Jackson’s arm fall to the ground.

The other man groans in relief from where he remains on the ground, but Javier pays him no mind as he turns to face you, blood pounding in his ears, “I need to talk to you.” Your expression is filled with anxiety and laced with concern for your fiancé, but there’s also an unmistakable sadness in your eyes that has Javi reaching out to cup your cheek. “Please, bonita.”

You close your eyes as his thumb strokes your skin, wiping away the single tear that escapes. Time seems to slow as you breathe him in, releasing a shaky breath when you open your eyes to find his frantically scanning your features. You bring your hand to cover his, pulling it away from your face and holding it between your trembling hands, “You can’t come around here anymore. I don’t,” you swallow hard, furrowing your brow, “I don’t love you, Javier - not like that…not anymore.”

Releasing his hand, you step around his frozen form to help Jackson to his feet. The beaten man hisses in pain as you lift under each of his arms until he stands at full height and wraps his uninjured arm around your shoulders, his other hand holding his nose. 

_I don’t love you, Javier._

He loses feeling in his legs as he stands there, his heart beating painfully around the blade you just plunged into his chest. But it’s nothing compared to the effect your next words have on his entire being.

With Jackson still at your side, you turn to Javier once more, your eyes glistening with unshed tears, “Just…leave, Javi, and don’t come back.” A sad smile forms on your lips as you whisper, “you’re good at that.” And without a second glance, you walk Jackson back into the house.

Javier barely feels his movements as he walks over to his car and leans against the door - doesn’t feel the pull on his muscles as he slides down the door into a squatting position, holding his head in his hands. 

All he feels is an unbearably painful emptiness in his chest, like he’s been hollowed out completely - left with nothing but the memory of his beating heart.

Pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes, he breathes out “bonita,” his bottom lip trembling. The world around him has gone chillingly silent and he fears that if his voice is anything above a whisper, he might just scream.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Translations:**

_Dime que es lo quieres, bonita_ \- Tell me what you want, beautiful.

 _¿Que tienes, Papá?_ \- what’s wrong, dad?

 _¿Que tienes, tú, mijito?_ \- what’s wrong with you, my son?

 _Pero…te veo tan…deprimido._ \- But…I see you so…depressed.

 _Te conozco, Javier._ \- I know you, Javier

 _¿Crees que estoy ciego, o qué?_ \- Do you think I’m blind, or what?

 _¿Qué hiciste?_ \- What did you do?

 _pinche_ \- damn/fucking

 _Pendejo - por eso no te quiere ver ni en pintura._ \- Dumbass - that’s why she doesn’t want to see you even in a picture (it makes more sense in Spanish lol)

 _tu mejor amiga_ \- your best friend 

_no más_ \- nothing more

 _un cobarde tan desgraciado_ \- such a wretched coward

 _No podía hacerlo, Papá._ \- I couldn’t do it, dad

 _Entonces ¿qué vas a hacer hijo?_ \- Well, what are you going to do?

 _O la vas a dejar ir?_ \- Or are you going to let her go?

 _será para siempre._ \- it will be forever.

 _pinche cabrón_ \- fucking asshole


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so thrilled for y’all to read this final chapter (but don't worry! I'm working on an Epilogue right now and hopefully that will be posted in the next week or so 🥰)

##  _Won’t give into the fear / It’s a feeling / I’m still right here_

_~~~_

_“I don’t love you, Javier - not like that…not anymore.” **  
**_

The words replay in his mind, over and over like a self-destructive song playing on repeat. He hasn’t slept, not much anyway. And what little sleep he _does_ get is cut short by memories of his days in Colombia or of the night you ripped his heart from his chest. 

He stares at your wedding invitation, lying in the center of his father’s coffee table. Chucho had left it there before he left for the ceremony about 30 minutes ago. Javier was thankful he hadn’t asked him to come along, though he _has_ been debating whether he should burn the invitation or just toss it in the trash bin.

Over the past week, he’s done nothing but sit on his father’s couch, drowning his sorrows in a couple bottles of whiskey. He could’ve gone back to his small apartment not too far from here. But the thought of being alone in that hollow, silent place - well, he’d much rather be a thorn in his father’s side than a victim to his own isolation.

Tapping his index finger on his thigh, he considers rummaging through his father’s liquor cabinet for another bottle of anything to numb his mind, but he decides better of it, given what happened just the day before. 

_“I know this must be hard for you, mijo. But if this is what she truly wants, you have to respect her decision.” Chucho tries to reason with his son, who’s balancing a mostly empty bottle of Jack Daniels on his lap._

_“Who s-says I don’t respect her d-decision?” he hiccups, his eyes glassy and unfocused. I haven’t gone back to her house, have I?_ I haven’t tried to talk to her, I haven’t even driven down her fucking street. I’d say I’m doing a damn good job of “respecting her decision.”

 _Chucho sighs, removing his stetson and running a hand through his gray hair, “Let me rephrase - you have to_ accept _her decision. All this wallowing has done nothing but caused you more pain and heartache.” He replaces his hat and looks down at Javier’s form, slumped against the couch cushions in defeat._

 _Javi closes his eyes, lazily rocking his head from side to side along the back of the couch. He lets out a bitter laugh, “Accept it? Would_ you _accept it, if it were mi mamá quien te mandó a la chingada?”_

_Chucho clenches his jaw, lunging forward and snatching the bottle from his son’s hands. “Ya fue suficiente, Javier. Go clean yourself up - que hueles a pura alcohol.” He takes the bottle somewhere Javi doesn’t see, leaving him to peel himself off the couch and stumble towards the bathroom._

_He barely makes it across the living room when his foot catches on the rug, sending him tumbling to the ground with a string of curses. Somehow he catches himself on his hands, but his knees land painfully on the hardwood floor._

_“Javier! What happened? ¿Estás bien?” Chucho rushes to his side, but Javier makes no move to stand up as he shakes his head. “No,” he releases a shaky breath, facing his father with tears in his eyes, “No me quiere, Papá,” his voice cracking._

_And after days of denying himself the cathartic release of his misery, he finally breaks, his father a mere bystander to his son’s emotional undoing. It’s messy and quiet, in the same way someone mourns the death of a loved one who’s been slowly dying and has finally passed on._

_He knew it was coming, but it doesn’t make it any easier to endure._

~~~

“Momma, can you help me with my veil?” you ask from where you stand in front of the full-length mirror in your childhood bedroom. You move the draping material of your wedding dress to the side so your mother has room to stand.

“Of course, baby girl,” she steps up behind you, helping you adjust the thin material atop the crown of your head. 

The whole day has been a blur of preparations, most of which you couldn’t care less about. You decided on the majority of the details yourself, so it’s not like you didn’t have a say in the matter. But even so, you doubt you’d put up a fight, feeling emotionally exhausted from the events of the past few weeks.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” your mother asks quietly as she places pins in your hair to hold the veil in place. Her hands are delicate, yet firm as they press against your scalp.

She catches your eye in the mirror and you offer a subtle shrug, “Nothing in particular. Just…wedding stuff, I guess.” A tight smile forms on your lips and you look away from her reflection, busying yourself with positioning the veil over your shoulders.

A moment of silence passes before she clears her throat, still placing pins in your hair, “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were…having second thoughts about marrying Jackson.” She pushes one final clip along the side of your head before meeting your anxious gaze in the mirror.

“What makes you say that?” you ask, your voice cracking slightly. Her eyes soften as she watches you, gently gripping your arms, “Because on a day that’s supposed to be the happiest of your life, I don’t think you could look more miserable, baby girl.” 

You drop her stare, and walk over to your nightstand to grab your grandmother’s earrings, “I _am_ happy, Momma. I’m just…tired. Haven’t been getting much sleep lately.” You tilt your head to the side as you put in one earring, keeping your eyes cast downward to evade your mother’s intense stare.

She walks over to stand in front of you just as you finish putting the second earring in. Her hands come to rest lightly on your cheeks, “It’s because of Javier, isn’t it?” she whispers, her eyes searching yours. 

Just hearing his name makes your chest constrict and you furrow your brow when your eyes start to burn, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You shake your head, but her hands are unmoving as she sighs deeply. 

Tears start prickling the corners of your eyes and if one of you doesn’t say something soon, they just might stain your cheeks. Then she says something that leaves you more confused than ever, “You know, I always thought you and Javi would end up together.” Her voice is wistful, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“W-what?” you stammer, unblinking. It never occurred to you that your and Javier’s closeness was so transparent to the people around you. Then again, whenever he was in the room, you hardly took notice of anyone else _but_ him.

She drops her hands from your face and sits on the edge of your twin-sized bed, “I just…y’all used to do _everything_ together. And I’ve never seen you happier than when you were around him.” She looks up at you with an incredulous expression, “The way he would look at you, my goodness. Sometimes even _I_ felt like blushin’,” she chuckles, a distant look in her eyes.

You sit next to her on the bed, your eyes never leaving her face even when her expression grows pained, “And when he left, I thought I’d never see you happy again.” She brings a warm hand to your cheek, her eyes shining with moisture, “You were so…devastated, but there was nothing I could do to take that pain away. No amount of comfort ever really brought that light back into your eyes.”

You close your eyes, trying to block out the memories that rise to the surface. It’s too much to bear, even after all this time. Then you feel a hand on your thigh as she admits, “I hated him…for doing that to you. I remember thinking to myself, ‘if I ever see that boy in this town again, I’m gonna give him a piece of my mind.’” 

Your eyes burst open, surprised at the level of severity in her tone. She keeps her eyes forward, watching something that only she can see, “But then, when I ran into him that day at the market - after he’d been gone for so many years - he just looked so…weary, scared almost.” She turns to face you, “All I saw was that little boy who used to come over to my house every day after school and quietly do his homework at the kitchen table with you peeking over his shoulder, bugging him for the correct answers.”

A laugh bubbles to the surface as you nod your head, remembering poking him with your pencil until he reached peak annoyance and begrudgingly helped you with your homework. 

Your laughter fades after a few moments, but the light feeling in your chest remains as your mother watches you, her eyes smiling. She gnaws her bottom lip, contemplating her next words.

“You know what he told me after we all had dinner together a couple weeks ago?” her question confuses you, but you nod, encouraging her to continue. “I had asked him to promise me he was taking care of himself, but…he whispered to me,” she swallows, her voice thick with emotion, “He said, ‘thank you for taking care of her when I couldn’t.’”

The room is heavy with silence, her last words hanging in the air. Her finger swipes delicately under her eye, catching a tear before it falls. You’re just about to respond when there’s a quiet knock on the door.

You both jump at the sound, despite its softness - the emotions of the past few minutes creating an almost-deafening sort of tension. Your mother goes to open the door, since your dress has a bit more material to gather as you get to your feet. 

As soon as she opens the door, you recognize the signature stenson belonging to Javier’s father, “I’m sorry to interrupt, Doña Y/L/N, but I was hoping I could speak with the bride-to-be and wish her good luck.”

“Of course, Chucho, come in,” your mother smiles and opens the door further to let him pass. He spots you on the opposite side of the room, his eyes warm as he takes you in, “Pero, que hermosa te ves, hijita.” He walks over to you and envelopes you in a gentle hug, careful not to wrinkle your dress. 

“Thank you, Chucho. You’re looking pretty sharp yourself,” you offer him a soft smile and he waves you off, “Ay, no. This suit is probably older than you are.” He chuckles and you find yourself smiling as well. 

“I’ll give y’all some privacy,” your mother states, offering you a reassuring smile as she steps out of the room and closes the door behind her. You bring your gaze back to Chucho, who’s studying you quietly, a pensive look in his eyes.

_He and Javi have the same eyes._

“So, how are you feeling? Nervous?” he asks, his expression polite, save for the slight furrow in his brow. _Did Javi tell him what happened between us?_

“Yes,” you answer a little too quickly, your stomach in knots, though you’re not sure if it’s because you’ll be married within the hour or some other reason you’re too stubborn to acknowledge. 

Your gaze falls to where your hands are fidgeting with the hem of your veil and in a voice as quiet as a whisper, you ask, “How - how is he?” You can’t bring yourself to say his name, afraid your voice might break.

Chucho sighs deeply and you bring your eyes back to his, finding them full of concern, “I’m not gonna lie. He’s-” he scratches his eyebrow with his thumb, not unlike the way Javi does when he’s anxious, “he’s hurting pretty bad. He hasn’t left my house in days. Truthfully, I haven’t seen him _this_ deprimido since his mother passed away decades ago.” 

His words leave a sharp pain in your chest, making it difficult to breathe. _Javi_.

You place a hand over your mouth to contain the sob that threatens to escape, your vision becoming blurred. In an instant, he’s placing his hands on your arms, reassuring, “Hey, hey, it’s okay. _He’ll be okay_. Hijita, listen to me,” his voice becomes stern and he ducks his head slightly to look you in the eyes when you shake your head at yourself.

He gently squeezes your arms, urging you to look at him and when you finally meet his gaze, his eyes soften, “Hijita, I know for a fact that all he wants is for you to be happy and safe. This man - Jackson - does he make you happy?” 

Your eyes fall to the floor as you nod your head mechanically, your words caught in your throat. Chucho doesn’t give you time to dwell on your inability to voice a proper answer, “Then that’s all that matters, okay? You don’t worry about anything else today, _me oyes_?” 

Your lip trembles as you take a couple deep breaths, trying to calm the ache in your heart while Chucho rubs your arms in a soothing manner. You offer him a grateful smile before pulling him into a hug, “Thank you.” He places a soft kiss on your forehead, wrapping his arms around you without a second thought.

And though his words have comforted you for the moment, a sense of longing tugs at the back of your mind. But you squash it down when your mother opens the door, announcing quietly, “Time to go.”

~~~

 _I can’t believe he hid it inside the washing machine_ , Javier thinks to himself as he sets the half-empty bottle of whiskey on the coffee table - right next to the wedding invitation. 

He stands in the middle of his father’s living room, hands perched on his hips as he glances between the bottle and thin cardstock paper. _Funny_ , he thinks, _I left her with nothing but a piece of paper all those years ago and now…I have_ this _piece of paper as proof that I’ve lost her completely._

He releases a humorless chuckle, “Karma really is a bitch.” Clenching his jaw, he snatches up the bottle of amber liquid, taking a long drink as memories of the night before he left flood his mind.

_“You okay, Javi?” you ask quietly while he stares at you from across the room, trying to memorize every detail of the way you look right at this moment. Your hair is slightly disheveled, your eyes glassy with exhaustion yet filled with a softness that makes his heart flutter._

_He doesn’t say anything as he crosses the room and pulls you into his arms, holding onto you like it’s the last chance he’ll have to do so, because it very well might be. He has no idea what he’s walking into down in Colombia, but one thing he knows for sure is that it will be dangerous._

_He cradles your head and buries his face in the crook of your neck, breathing you in and committing every detail of your closeness to memory. You wrap your arms around his middle, shivering slightly, and he somehow finds it in himself to ask, “You know I care about you more than anything, right, bonita?” his voice is muffled as he speaks into your hair, the soft waves tickling his lips._

_You nod against his chest and a small sense of relief rushes over him, though it isn’t nearly enough to quell the painful ache in his chest. Leaning back, you look up at him, your (Y/E/C) eyes shining in the moonlight that beams through the open window. He stares deeply into your eyes, a furrow in his brow as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear._

_I_ don’t know how I’ll survive without you _, he finds himself already longing for the day the two of you will be reunited once his work in Colombia is done. Once he can return home to you._

_You bite your lip, the anxious look in your eyes pulling him from his thoughts as his heart hammers against his rib cage. He wants nothing more than to close the distance between you and let his touch convey every sentiment he’s ever felt towards you - how thankful he is for your friendship, how he’d do anything to protect you. But most of all, how he loves you with every fiber of his being - he always has._

_And in that exact moment, it’s like you’ve read his very thoughts, stealing the air from his lungs when you whisper “I love you, Javi.”_

_He loses all sense of time then, his mind going completely blank._ She - what? _The pounding in his ears makes it even more difficult to comprehend what you just said and he’s sure he must’ve misheard you._

 _But the vulnerability in your eyes makes him think better of it - that maybe you_ do _feel the same way and maybe he isn’t crazy for thinking something could happen between the two of you. It was something he thought about every time you laughed at one of his dumb jokes, or when you’d break into one of your passionate rants about anything and everything, or when you’d scold him for forgetting to order french fries with his dinner on movie nights, so you’d have to share yours with him._

 _The truth is, he would do it on purpose, just to get a rise out of you and to see the flush in your cheeks whenever you became irritated. But also so he’d have an excuse to touch your hand when you’d both reach into the bag of fries at the same time. He knows it’s childish, but if there is even the slightest chance for him to get_ that much _closer to you, he’s willing to do just about anything._

_He’s not sure how much time has passed, let alone what’s going through your head right now. All he knows is that you’re smiling up at him, your eyes bright and warm and filled with so much love that breathing becomes impossible._

_He wants so badly to say the words back to you - to cut his chest open and hand his heart over to you right then and there…but, he can’t. Not with everything changing so quickly and drastically, it makes his head spin. By this time tomorrow, he’ll already be halfway to Colombia, and there’s no way he can drag you along with him._

_And even if he_ does _tell you how he feels, he’s not sure he has the strength to leave you behind - or at all, for that matter - not after discovering you love him just as fiercely and unconditionally as he does you._

_So when you open your mouth to speak, he stops you by pressing a kiss to your forehead, his lips burning from the touch. The voice in the back of his mind screams for him to tell you the truth - because you deserve to know, especially if something happens to him in the line of duty._

_But he just pulls you closer to him, letting your body conform to his and melt into his embrace. And if you knew what he was about to do, he’s sure you’d want nothing to do with him. So for now, he allows himself to live in this moment with you resting your head against his chest – surely you must hear how fast his heart is racing._

It’s gonna be OK _, he thinks, but he’s not sure if the words are meant for you or for himself._

Before he has a chance to change his mind, Javier heads for the kitchen sink and dumps the contents of the liquor bottle down the drain. 

Shaking his head to himself, he tries to gather his thoughts, but his mind is racing a thousand miles a minute. 

_I can’t let her go - not this time._

_She doesn’t want me in her life anymore._

_But I can’t just fucking stand here without at least_ trying _to - to…_

_To what? Interrupt her wedding? Just - burst through the door and beg her to talk to me?_

He continues to hold the bottle upside down and over the sink long after it’s empty, lost in his rapid-fire thoughts. He checks the time on his watch, finally setting the bottle down on the counter. 

_The ceremony starts in 20 minutes. I can make it_ , he snatches up his keys from the counter, practically sprinting through the door. The breeze from his rushing form sends the wedding invitation flying to the ground, but he hardly notices - his mind dead-set on getting to the church in time.

 _I’ll beg her on my fucking knees if I have to_ , he thinks when he steps out into the evening air.

~~~

“You ready, baby girl? They’re playin’ our song,” your mother asks as you stand in the lobby of the church, waiting to walk through the double doors that lead into the chapel. The wedding party has just finished lining up by the altar and only you and your mother – who’s escorting you down the aisle – are left.

You haven’t said a word since you left the house, the car ride here filled with complete silence, save for the radio playing softly in the background. And you’re grateful your mother didn’t try to spark some form of conversation during the short ride to the church.

But now you’re here – seconds away from walking down the aisle – and your legs are shaking so hard, your muscles feel sore. Your mother gently squeezes your arm, a look of concern plaguing her features. 

Before you have a chance to respond, one of the ushers peeks his head through the doors, whispering, “10 seconds, then you’re up.” Your mother reassures him you’ll be ready and he quickly slips out of sight, leaving the two of you alone again.

“Why did you tell me those things?” you whisper, your voice sounding distant. Lifting your eyes to meet hers, she furrows her brow, “What things?”

“About Javier and what he said to you,” your words are clipped, anxiety and confusion clouding your mind. Your heart pounds in your chest, your stomach churning. _Why is this happening?_

“I don’t know, you just looked so…lost. I wanted to make sure you had the whole story…” she pauses when the doors open, her gaze facing forward, “and that you were making the right decision.” 

You keep your eyes on her profile even when she walks forward, gently pulling you along with her. Your feet move to keep up with her, but it’s like you’ve lost control of your own body as you face forward, your eyes landing on the man standing at the altar, his expression somewhat smug. 

But you can barely register your surroundings, save for the deafening notes of the bridal chorus encompassing the room as you continue onward. 

_“You know I care about you more than anything, right, bonita?”_

Breathing becomes difficult with the wires of your corset digging into your skin.

_“I always made you think your feelings for me were totally one-sided…that wasn’t true.”_

Your legs are numb, but you force yourself to place one foot in front of the other, the altar growing nearer with every step. 

_“Please, just tell me - tell me you feel nothing for me and I’ll leave you alone…for good.”_

You’re halfway down the aisle now, your eyes scanning the crowd of people, seeing some familiar faces and some who are complete strangers. None of them have the slightest idea of the inner turmoil that’s ripping you apart from the inside out.

_“Are you…happy, bonita?”_

A low chuckle calls your attention back to the altar where you find Jackson leaning towards one of his groomsmen who’s whispering something into his ear. It must’ve been one hell of a joke because your groom is struggling to keep a straight face as you near the altar. 

_“If you want me out of your life, give me a good reason.”_

The two of you come to a stop at the foot of the altar. Your mother gives your arm a reassuring squeeze and presses a kiss to your cheek, a small smile playing on her lips despite the questions swimming in her eyes.

_“Please, bonita.”_

“I’ve got it from here,” Jackson aims a wink at her while offering his arm for you to take. Looking up at him, you try to blink away the tears welling in your eyes, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he pulls you to his side, a wide grin spread across his face, “You’re so dang pretty in that dress, baby.”

An appreciative smile tugs at your lips, not reaching your eyes. Then the two of you face forward as the ceremony begins, your mind anywhere else but here.

_Why the hell am I doing this?_

~~~

“¡QUÍTATE CABRÓN!” Javier shouts at the car in front of him, honking his car’s horn for the tenth time. He knew he shouldn’t have tried to take side streets with the hopes of finding a few shortcuts to the church.

 _It’s just my fucking that luck they’re doing construction on one of the smallest streets in town_ , he grips the wheel with anxious hands. Fifteen minutes have already passed since he left his dad’s house, which means he has less than five minutes to get to you.

But the rest of the drive is easily ten minutes, from where he is now to the church – and that’s without construction being an obstacle. Muttering a string of curses, he glances over his left shoulder to see if any cars are coming but finds the coast is clear.

“Fuck this,” he grunts, turning the steering wheel hard and veering off the road to drive around the ridiculously long line of cars ahead of him. He’s thankful he still has his DEA badge on him – a habit that’s been impossible to break since returning from Colombia – in case he gets pulled over by the sheriff.

But he doesn’t plan on stopping anyway – not until he reaches that damn church.

~~~

The priest speaks slowly, though you’re not really paying attention to what he’s saying – something about love being kind and patient and some other adjectives that mean nothing to you.

Most of it passes in a blur with your arm pressed against Jackson’s, the material of his suit making your skin itch. Your chest feels heavy, your breaths rapid and shallow.

 _I wish Javi was here_ , your heart seems to speak out within you and you’re taken aback by the sense of longing flooding your chest. 

But it’s the truth and you know it deep in your bones. 

He was always someone whose arms you could run into and he’d drop everything in his hands to catch you. When it all became too much, _he_ was the one that would calm you down and help you breathe through whatever anxiety was suffocating you. He was your lifeline.

And then he left.

 _But_ , you reason with yourself, _he didn’t really have a choice, did he?_ Back then, you had heard about Escobar all over the news and knew that the US would have to step in eventually, but you never realized that responsibility could fall onto Javi’s shoulders. _Of course_ , he had to go - and it’s a good thing he did because he ended up having a heavy hand in catching the drug kingpin.

If only he’d just _told_ you that he was needed in Colombia – you’re almost certain things would be completely different between the two of you right now. 

And it’s this wishful thinking that has you second-guessing every single decision that’s led you to this moment. Maybe if you hadn’t been so blinded by your grief from losing Javier, you would’ve realized sooner that the man you’re about to marry hardly even knows the real you.

But as the priest motions for you and Jackson to face each other for the pronunciation of your vows, panic starts to set in and everything moves in slow motion as you turn your gaze to the crowd. 

Your eyes find Chucho sitting off to the side, a generous space between himself and another guest whose name you can’t remember. He meets your eyes, a sad smile ghosting over his features. 

It’s the sorrowful look in his eyes - _Javi’s eyes_ \- that helps you find your voice, “Wait.” The priest carries on as if he didn’t hear you and you snap your head towards him, repeating with more conviction, “Wait.”

He looks up from the small book he’s been reading from, an eyebrow quirked in annoyance. “Is something wrong?” You don’t bother answering him, instead placing a hand on Jackson’s arm while he turns to you with a look of confusion, “Jackson, I - I can’t do this.” 

His brow furrows even deeper, his expression hard, “What? What do you mean?” he stiffens, glancing over his shoulder when a wave of gasps and whispers break out in the crowd.

You barely have a chance to open your mouth when he reaches for your elbow, his ears a bright shade of pink, “C’mere,” as he drags you off to the side room. No one seems to notice his form of aggression while they gossip amongst themselves.

“Let me go,” you whisper harshly in his ear, but he only loosens his grip, keeping you in his hold, “Not until you tell me what the _hell_ you think you’re doin’.” He towers over you, his eyes bulging with a rage that further heightens your own anxiety. 

You can’t believe how blind – how stupid you were for not seeing passed his little _darlin’s_ and _sweet girl’s_. You suppose it was only a matter of time before his true colors came out. “I can’t marry you, Jackson. I’m sorry, but I - I’m not in love with you,” a flash of hurt crosses his features but it’s quickly masked by anger.

“No, I won’t let you do this – not in front of all those people out there,” he points toward the partially opened door. You shake your head in disbelief, “Is that all you care about – what everyone out there will think of you?” 

He clenches his jaw before releasing a breath through his nose. Placing his other hand on your arm, he holds you in place, his voice eerily calm, “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lose my temper like that. But…we’ve already come this far, sweet girl,” he slides his hands down your arms so he’s holding your hands in his, “Please, don’t do this to me.”

And you almost believe the pleading in his eyes, but the ticking in his jaw speaks greater volumes than his words. Pulling your hands from his grasp, you gather your skirt and take a step back, “I’m sorry. It’s - it’s over.” You turn your back to him, heading for the door, but then he’s grabbing your arm and yanking you backwards, “I _said_ no–” he snarls through gritted teeth just before someone bursts through the door.

“¡Déjala, imbécil!” Chucho demands, his hands balled into fists at his sides. His eyes are filled with a boiling rage you’ve never seen in him before, and yet his presence fills you with an overwhelming sense of relief.

“Who the hell are you?” Jackson questions, still holding your arm in a relentless grip. You wince when his nails dig into your skin and Chucho seethes, “Let her go, pendejo - o vas a descubrir _muy_ rápido quién soy yo.” 

Turning your attention to Jackson while the two men glare at each other, you say, “Let me go, Jackson.” He turns to you then, and you know he understands the double meaning in your words when that flash of hurt returns in his eyes.

Placing your hand over the one he has around your arm, you try to appeal to his softer side, “Please.” The word tastes like acid on your tongue, but you’re desperate to be free of his grasp. He searches your eyes for a few long seconds before you feel his grip loosen on your arm, allowing you to pull yourself free.

He looks between you and Chucho with a stubborn shake of his head. Releasing an exasperated sigh, he runs a hand through his hair and gives you one last pointed look before turning on his heel and leaving the room. 

Your body relaxes for the first time in days as you slump down into a random chair, letting your head fall into your hands. Tears of relief well in your eyes and something between a laugh and a sob escapes passed your lips. 

The words _thank you_ repeat over and over in your mind, though you’re not exactly sure who or what it is you’re thanking.

You feel a gentle hand on your shoulder, “¿Estás bien, hija?” Chucho asks in a soft, yet firm voice. Resting your hand on top of his, you nod just as your mother rushes into the room, pulling you into her arms, “Baby girl, what happened? Are you okay?” 

She leans back, cradling your face in her hands as her eyes frantically scan your features and you offer her a reassuring smile. “I’m fine, Momma, really. I just…couldn’t go through with it–” you glance at Chucho, who watches your exchange with concerned eyes, before bringing your eyes back to her, “–not when I’m in love with someone else,” your voice cracks at the same time a single tear rolls down your cheek.

Her face crumples slightly as if she’s about to cry as well, but then she’s pulling you into a tight embrace, her hand gently holding the back of your head. You instantly return her embrace as she exhales what sounds like a breath of relief before releasing her hold on you, “Well, then, what are you still doing here?”

Your heart starts to race without warning, your brow furrowing as you say, “I can’t just leave. What about all the wedding arrangements and–” she cuts you off with a wave of her hand.

“I’ll take care of everything. Here,” she sifts through her purse for a second, pulling out a set of keys and holding them out to you, “take my car. Go on.” She practically shoves you toward the door, but you turn and face her and Chucho, completely at a loss for words. 

You can’t help but wonder what you did to deserve such loving and supportive people in your life. And you know you’ll forever be grateful for everything they’ve done for you, not just today, but throughout your entire life. 

Giving them each a tight hug, you’re unable to voice the immense gratitude you have for them, but they don’t seem to mind as they usher you out the door with knowing smiles on their faces.

You move as fast you can while gathering the material of your wedding gown, the crowd’s eyes on you. _The next family gathering should be…interesting, to say the least._

Pushing open the church’s heavy doors, you nearly trip rounding the corner, but somehow manage to stay on your feet as you dart down the stairs. 

The sun is nearly set, the sky’s hues of orange and pink growing darker by the second. A strong breeze blows through your hair, sending your veil flying, but you don’t bother stopping to chase after it – you’ve lost too much time as it is.

You’ve almost reached your mother’s car when you stumble over the material of your dress, the car keys flying out of your hand as you catch yourself on the door of a nearby car. You press a hand to your chest, your heart pounding against your ribs. 

Taking a moment to catch your breath, you scan the immediate area for your mother’s keys, but it’s impossible to see anything now that the sun’s gone down completely. “Dammit,” you breathe out with a sigh of frustration. 

Then a deep voice reaches your ears, “Looking for these?” and your heart just about stops as you turn to face–

“Javi?”

~~~

By some miracle, Javi had managed to catch every green light the rest of his drive – or rather, _race_ \- to the church. Checking the clock on the radio, he figures the ceremony must’ve started almost ten minutes ago.

“C’mon, c’mon,” he mutters as he jerks the steering wheel to the right, turning into the parking lot. The rays of the setting sun shine in his eyes and he raises his hand to pull down the visor when something flies onto the windshield.

He stomps his foot on the brake, bringing the car to a screeching halt. _What the fuck is that?_ The piece of material snags on the windshield wiper and Javi sticks his hand out the side window to catch it before it flies off. 

He notices a border of lace on the piece of mesh-like material and his head snaps up as soon as he realizes what he’s holding - _a veil_. 

He looks in the direction it came from and his heart leaps in his chest when he spots you on the other side of the lot, bolting across the blacktop, the train of your dress dragging behind you. 

His legs react before his mind does and he soon finds himself sprinting towards you, the sunlight quickly fading as day turns into night. He watches you stumble and catch yourself on a random vehicle, the object in your hand landing on the ground a few meters in front of him.

He slows his pace and snags up what appears to be a set of car keys. _Where is she going? And where’s Jackson?_ He doesn’t allow himself to believe what he hopes is the reason you’re seemingly fleeing the scene of your wedding.

You hold a hand over your chest, cursing as you scan your surroundings in search of the keys you dropped. He stops when he’s a few paces away from you, clutching the keys in his hand so tightly, the metal digs into his palm.

“Looking for these?” he asks, and when you turn upon hearing his voice, he’s certain his heart will burst out of his chest at any moment. You’re like a dream - all dressed in white, your hair draping over your shoulders in soft waves, your cheeks flushed from exertion.

“Javi?” and just the sound of your voice makes his heart swell with life. He takes a few steps closer to you, every inch of closed distance lifting a weight off his chest. 

Your eyes never leave his as you gather the material of your dress and walk over to him until the distance between you is nonexistent. The butterflies in his stomach take flight when you stop mere inches away from him. _She’s breathtaking._

“Where are you going, bonita?” he whispers, his fingers aching to reach out and stroke your cheek. With wide eyes and parted lips, you surprise him when you place a soft hand on his cheek, making him shudder from the small contact alone.

“To find you,” you breathe out, your gaze falling to his mouth at the same moment your thumb swipes along his bottom lip. Your expression is almost awestruck, and he wonders if he looks just as shocked as you do. 

“I’m right here,” he cups your cheek and you close your eyes with a soft hum, like the sound one makes just before falling into a peaceful slumber. When you open your eyes, they’re filled with such raw emotion, Javi’s breath hitches in his throat. 

_She’s so fucking beautiful - please don’t let me screw this up._

You gaze into each other’s eyes for a long while until finally, your lip trembles and the words he’s been longing to hear fall from your lips, “I love you, Javi. I’m so sorry–” but he doesn’t want to waste any more time on regrets and apologies.

Instead, he crashes his lips against yours, savoring every gasp, every moan, every point of contact between his body and yours. And despite the sudden chill in the air, he’s never felt brighter or warmer than he does being in your arms.

Eventually, you have to break apart to come up for air, your chests flush against each other. He tucks a strand of loose hair behind your ear before resting his forehead against yours, sighing, “Te amo tanto, bonita. I always have.” 

A smile slowly spreads on your features, your eyes glistening even in the shadows of night. A wave of nostalgia crashes over him and his face falls slightly, “I never should’ve left the way I did. Dios, I was so _stupid_ for not telling you how I felt before–”

You don’t let him finish his sentence, instead pressing a soft kiss to his lips, murmuring, “I think we’ve paid enough for our mistakes already. Please, just–hold me.” The pleading in your voice clutches his heart in an unforgiving grip and he slowly nods before pulling you against him, burying his face in your neck. 

You start to slide your hands up his back, but then stop abruptly, wincing before lowering your hands back to his waist. He leans away in an instant, concerned, “What happened?” You start to wave him off but he catches your forearm, rotating it inward so he can get a better look at the crescent marks on your bruising skin.

_That motherfucker._

“Did he do this to you?” he seethes, blood pounding in his ears while he clenches his jaw repeatedly. He doesn’t wait for your reply as he takes a step back towards the direction of the church, “I’m gonna fucking kill that _hijo de puta_.” 

You grab onto his arm before he can get too far, “No, wait!” You cradle his face in your hands, an anxious look in your eyes, “I’m okay. He’s never gonna touch me again– _ever_ , OK? Stay with me…please.” A tear glides down your cheek and Javier reaches up to catch it, swiping it away with his thumb. 

He takes a few calming breaths as you wrap your arms around his middle, pressing a chaste kiss to his jaw before resting your head on his shoulder. “Stay with me,” you plead softly, your breath warm on his neck. He closes his eyes, focusing all of his energy on just being here with you and finally having a chance to share his love with you.

“Okay,” he releases a steadying breath, enveloping you in his arms, “okay.” And that hope that guided him here to this exact moment floods his veins, giving him the courage to let everything go and stay with you. Resting his cheek on the top of your head, he whispers, “You look beautiful, by the way.”

You laugh lightly, “Thank you,” and press a kiss to his neck that leaves goosebumps on his skin. You look up at him, your nose scrunched in subtle annoyance, “to be honest, I can’t wait to get out of this itchy dress.” 

He chuckles, his hand stroking up and down your back until his fingers find the zipper sewn into the lacey material, “I can help you with that,” he offers in a low voice. Your cheeks flush and a small gasp escapes you the same moment he leans down and seizes your lips in a hungry kiss.

You squeal in surprise when he lifts you off the ground, a smile tugging on his lips as you shake your head, “Not in the parking lot of a _church_ , Javi,” your words turning into breathless laughter. He laughs as well and sets you back on the ground, planting a kiss on your cheek just as a car’s horn sounds off behind him.

He stiffens, but keeps an arm around your waist as he turns to see who’s interrupted this rare moment of happiness. But his body relaxes when he spots his father’s truck, the man himself sitting in the driver’s seat with the window rolled down, “Buenas noches, hijo,” a knowing grin splayed on his features. 

“Papá,” Javi subtly bows his head in greeting, a smile of his own forming on his lips. You wrap your arm around his waist, sighing with contentment as you rest your head on his shoulder. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head, his thumb affectionately stroking your hip.

“Everything cleared up between you two?” Chucho raises his eyebrows in question, glancing between the two of you.

Javier brings his gaze back to you the same moment you look up at him, your eyes full of love and certainty. He’s never felt so seen, so alive – or so sure of anything else in the world, other than his inextinguishable love for you. 

“Yeah,” he mutters, “everything’s crystal clear.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Translations:**

_Mijo_ \- my son

 _mi mamá quien te mandó a la chingada?_ \- my mom who sent you to hell (kinda like slang for “told you to fuck off”)

 _Ya fue suficiente_ \- that’s enough

 _que hueles a pura alcohol_ \- you smell like pure alcohol

 _¿Estás bien?_ \- are you okay?

 _No me quiere, Papá_. - she doesn’t love/want me, Dad.

 _Pero, que hermosa te ves, hijita._ \- My, how beautiful you look, [daughter].

 _deprimido_ \- depressed

 _me oyes?_ \- you hear me?

 _¡QUÍTATE CABRÓN!_ \- Get out of the way, asshole! 

_¡Déjala, imbécil!_ \- leave her alone, jackass

 _o vas a descubrir quién soy muy rápido._ \- or you’ll find out who I am real quick

 _¿Estás bien, hija?_ \- are you OK, [daughter]?

 _Te amo tanto, bonita_ \- I love you so much, beautiful

 _hijo de puta_ \- motherfucker

 _Buenas noches, hijo_ \- good evening, son


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is, y’all, my pride and joy. sorry it took me so long to write, but i kept getting stuck and i need this to be absolutely PERFECT (or as close to perfect as i could get it lol). thank you all SO MUCH for reading this series and anything else i post on here 💜

##  _**I’m still right here** _

The twinkling lights illuminate the patio in soft hues of yellow and white. With the sun setting in the west and painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, the image before you is one that will be imprinted in your mind for years to come. 

Your mother sits down next to you and places a hand on your arm, “It’s almost six. They should be here any minute now.” The giddiness in her expression makes you chuckle as you continue to lightly bounce the baby in your arms, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was _your_ birthday we’re celebrating.”

She waves off your comment and reaches out to take her granddaughter from you, “Oh, you know I love surprises – doesn’t matter who they’re for.” Raising the baby in her arms, she plants a series of light kisses on the baby’s cheek, making her giggle with delight. 

“Ay qué preciosa nenita,” one of Javier’s aunts from out of town smiles at your daughter before looking your way. “How old is she?” she asks in a thick accent. 

“She’s almost 10 months,” you offer, warmth spreading through your chest when you look down at the wide-eyed baby girl in your mother’s lap. She looks up at you, blabbering incoherently and you nod as if in conversation with her. 

You turn back to the older woman, motioning for her to sit down next to you just as the guest of honor walks through the restaurant doors that lead to the patio. Your mother pats your shoulder, prompting you to take the baby from her arms so she can stand up and greet the man of the hour.

An array of cheers exclaiming _surprise_ and _feliz cumpleaños_ rings throughout the space and Chucho’s face lights up instantly, placing a hand over his heart. Javier walks out right behind him and tosses an arm over his father’s shoulder, pulling him into a warm hug as he says, “Feliz cumpleaños, Papá.” 

Your heart swells at the sight and Javi raises his eyes to meet yours, sending you a wink before pulling back from the hug. When Chucho turns to face the crowd of family and friends coming to greet him, you notice his eyes are shining with emotion. 

Leaving his father to mingle with his guests, Javier walks over to you, a grin teasing the corners of his lips, “How are my beautiful girls?” He wraps an arm around your waist and plants a soft kiss to your lips while your daughter giggles and flails her arms between you. “Missing you,” you murmur against his lips and he chuckles in return, his breath tickling your skin.

He gently squeezes your waist, “I was only gone for an hour, bonita–” your daughter’s scream for attention interrupts him and he looks down at her, his eyes filled with laughter and devotion. “Sí, aquí estoy, mi amor,” he coos, pulling her into his arms and pecking kisses all over her face. Her shrill laughter has people looking in your direction but you hardly notice them as you watch Javier coddle your daughter with affection. 

A moment later, Chucho comes over to join the three of you. “Is that _my nieta_ causing all that ruckus?” he laughs, removing his signature stetson to plant a kiss to her head of soft, dark hair. “It sure is,” you offer in mock annoyance before smiling wide as he pulls you into a hug, “Happy birthday, _suegrito_.” You kiss his cheek and he does the same to you, “Gracias, hijita, pero ya te dije–you can call me _Papá_ , que somos familia. Besides, _suegro_ makes me feel…old.” His nose scrunches up in disgust and you break out in a fit of laughter.

“You just turned _70_ , Papá. Tampoco eres tan joven,” Javier teases, perching the baby on his hip as he brings her tiny hand to his cheek, rubbing it along the scruff that’s grown over the past couple days. It’s one of his favorite things to do with her, mainly because she makes the silliest faces as the scratchy texture of his beard tickles her skin.

Chucho shakes his head with a chuckle, “Es cierto. Bueno, who do I have to thank for such a wonderful surprise?” He rests his hands on yours and Javi’s shoulders, his eyebrows raised expectantly. “Actually, my mom put most of this together,” you gesture towards the table you’d been sitting at, finding your mother speaking animatedly with Javier’s aunt. 

She turns upon hearing her name and excuses herself to join your conversation. Chucho bows his head respectfully, “Señora, thank you so much for this, you really didn’t have to go out of your way for me.” She merely shakes her head and pulls him in for a warm embrace.

With all the emotions in the air, your heart becomes overwhelmed with gratitude and contentment–so much so that tears prickle the corners of your eyes. Furrowing your brow, you wipe under your eyes to catch the moisture that’s gathered there when you feel a warm hand on the small of your back.

“What’s wrong, bonita?” Javi asks in a voice laced with concern, your daughter sleeping peacefully against his chest. You look at him with blurry eyes and offer him a soft smile as you place a gentle hand on his cheek. Almost instantly, he reaches for your wrist and turns his head, kissing your palm and rubbing soothing circles on your skin. 

You bite your lip to stop a fresh wave of tears when he brings your hand to rest over his heart, right next to your baby’s sleeping face, her soft breaths fanning over your skin. Swallowing hard, you rest your head on his other shoulder, whispering, “I just…never thought I could feel this happy, you know?”

Holding your daughter close to his chest, he wraps his other arm around you and presses a kiss to the crown of your head. With his lips flush against your skin, he releases a peaceful sigh along with the words, “Yeah…I know.”

~~

The party goes on for hours and is filled with laughter, dancing, and some of the best food you’ve ever tasted. Several people even stuck around until the restaurant’s closing time, but it’s no surprise to you that Chucho would attract such loyal and caring people into his life. 

After saying your goodbyes to the family, you give Chucho one last hug as he says “Thank you for tonight, mijita. Me divertí mucho.” He kisses your cheek and you tighten your arms around him, “I’m glad you had fun–” you pull back to look him in the eye “– _Papá_.” His smile broadens, but he doesn’t say anything and you suspect his emotions have gotten the better of him – much like yours have.

Across the way you notice Javier talking to your mother while she gently rocks from side to side with your daughter in her arms. He bends down to leave a kiss on the baby’s forehead and whispers something you can’t hear. Then, as if he can feel your eyes on him, he looks over his shoulder to find you staring, his eyes crinkling around a lop-sided grin. 

“You know, I don’t think I ever told you how grateful I am,” Chucho starts, calling your attention back to him, though his eyes remain on Javier as he gives your mother a hug, “I don’t know what might have become of him…if you weren’t in his life.” 

A lump forms in your throat and you gnaw the inside of your cheek, focusing on the slight pinch to keep yourself from becoming overly emotional again. Chucho tears his gaze away from his son – who’s now making his way over to you – and he rests a gentle hand on your arm, much like he did that day when you almost made the biggest mistake of your life. “Estoy tan agradecido, not just for his happiness, but for yours as well, mijita,” his eyes glisten from the combination of celebratory drinks he’s consumed, but also with an air of warmth that has your own eyes welling with tears.

Before you can respond, he leans forward and kisses your forehead. As he leans back and wipes away a stray tear on your cheek, Javier walks up, musing, “¿Por qué tantas lágrimas hoy?” You chuckle lightly, sniffling as he places a hand on your lower back and Chucho says, “Ah, no más la estaba dando las gracias…por todo.”

The knowing glint in Javier’s dark eyes as he looks between the two of you speaks volumes, and you know he understands the deeper meaning behind his father’s words. He nods once, addressing Chucho, “Ready to go?” and when his father gives him an affirmative answer, Javier turns to you, sliding his hand around your waist and giving your hip a reassuring squeeze, “I’ll see you at home.”

And even after all this time, your heart still flutters from the idea of him coming home to you. A mixture of excitement and comfort floods your veins as he presses a long kiss to your lips. The two of you pull apart only when Chucho clears his throat, rocking back on his heels with his hands clasped together over his stomach. 

You release an airy laugh, your cheeks growing warm as you gently push Javi’s shoulders back, “Go on, I’m just gonna make sure my mom has everything she needs for the weekend.” Your mother had offered to take the baby for a couple days after the party, and you immediately took her up on it so you and Javi could have some much-desired alone time.

With a wink, he and Chucho set off towards his truck so Javi can drive him home, and you go to meet your mother by her car. After kissing your daughter goodbye and triple-checking that her car seat is secure, you pull your mother into a hug, that lump in the back of your throat barely starting to dissipate. 

She sees how affected you are and asks, “Is everything alright? That’s the third time tonight you’ve gotten all teary-eyed.” You wave off her concern, offering the excuse of being exhausted from all the party planning and dealing with a shipment issue at the flower shop. 

But as you drive away, something tugs at the back of your mind. You _have_ been a little more sensitive both physically and emotionally these past couple weeks, but you haven’t exactly had time to stop and think about what it might mean. Especially since every minute of spare time you have is usually spent with Javi and your daughter. 

Then, a gasp of realization escapes you. 

_No, it can’t be–_

A car honking behind you startles you out of your thoughts and you mumble an apology as if the other driver can hear you. With your heart racing, you continue your way home, but not before stopping by the local pharmacy for a quick purchase.

~~~ 

By the time Javier pulls into the driveway of your shared home, it’s well past midnight. The neighborhood is almost completely silent, save for the sound of crickets chirping and the occasional vehicle passing by. 

But despite the late hour, he’s never felt more awake – now that the two of you get to be alone for a couple days. Stifling the urge to grin like an overexcited teenager, he opens the front door and closes it quietly behind him. He drops his keys on the small table at the entrance, pausing briefly to glance at the photo that rests there. 

It’s a picture of the two of you at your wedding reception, during your first dance as a married couple. A small smile reaches his lips and he closes his eyes for a moment, remembering every single detail of that night.

_The soft glow from the barn’s low-hanging lights is almost dreamlike, so much so that Javier has to pinch himself every now and then to make sure this isn’t, in fact, a dream. Especially since it’s something he’s wanted for so long, he can hardly believe it’s actually happening._

_But when you look up at him through perfectly curled lashes and flash him a smile that puts all others to shame, he knows this is real._ You _are real and you’re right here in his arms, swaying to the gentle tune that plays in the background._

 _“Fair warning, I_ might _trip over my dress and fall on my ass in front of all these people,” you laugh lightly as you wrap your arms around his neck. He chuckles, turning his head to plant a soft kiss on your wrist and pulling you closer to him, “Don’t worry, bonita. I’ll be here to catch you.”_

_Your eyes soften with a look of complete adoration, stealing the very breath from his lungs. He lowers his head to rest against yours as the two of you continue dancing, though it’s more like a rhythmic rocking back and forth. “Or,” he starts and you raise an eyebrow expectantly, your fingers gently playing with the hair on the nape of his neck, “I’ll fall on my ass with you, then at least you won’t be the only one on the ground.”_

_Your head falls to his chest in a fit of laughter so strong, even_ his _shoulders shake from the movement, and his heart swells when you tilt your head back again, your eyes shining with joyful tears. Camera flashes go off every now and then, but he hardly notices anyone else in the room. As far as he’s concerned, the only people that exist at this moment are him and his wife._

My wife _, just thinking of you in such a way has his heart racing and his bones aching with a desire so intoxicating, he never wants to come down from this high. “What are you thinking about?” your voice pulls him from his reverie, though his eyes never left yours the entire time._

_The corner of his mouth quirks up when he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to your temple before whispering, “Mi esposa…y como la amo con toda mi alma.” You bite your lip, humming pensive as he leans back slightly, your face so close to his he can make out the tiny flecks of color in your irises._

_“She’s one lucky woman to have you…_ como su esposo _,” his face instantly softens and he brings a hand up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. He slowly shakes his head, whispering, “Pretty sure_ I’m _the lucky one.” A smile breaks out on your features and a moment later your lips are meeting his in a kiss that’s both gentle and passionate._

_A tap on Javier’s shoulder pulls him away from you to find Chucho standing there, his stetson in his hands as he smiles at the two of you, “May I have a dance with the bride?” Javi then notices that other people have joined the two of you on the dance floor, though he’s not sure when it happened. He glances back at you and you nod your head, offering his father a sweet smile._

_“I’d love to, Chucho,” you say at the same time Javi releases a mock sigh, grumbling “I guess so.” You playfully swat his arm as he backs away, chuckling. You shake your head at him, a smile of your own tugging at the corners of your lips._

_“Alright, alright. I get the hint,” he places another soft kiss on your lips and steps back, gesturing for his father to take his place as Chucho offers an appreciative clap on Javi’s shoulder, “gracias, hijo.”_

_Javi watches you smile wide as his father twirls you around in a circle, your laughter settling deep in his chest._ Yeah, I’m definitely the lucky one _._

The rest of the night had passed in a blur of dancing, laughing, and a very messy wedding cake. 

Truthfully, it couldn’t have been more perfect. Although, his favorite part actually took place later that night when it was just the two of you, and then the honeymoon…well, just the memory of it has his heart pumping faster and his hands itching to find you and worship your body in every way imaginable.

“Where are you, bonita?” Javi calls down the hallway as he removes his jacket and drapes it over the back of the sofa, making a mental note to hang it up in the hall closet later. He heads to the bedroom you two share, but you’re nowhere in sight. “Mi amor?” he calls for you again just before a quiet “shit” sounds behind the closed bathroom door.

He’s about to open the door as concern starts to sink in the pit of his stomach, but then it opens on its own and you walk out holding something in your hand. He places his hands on your arms and you look up at him with an unreadable expression as you whisper, “It’s positive.”

Confusion deepens the furrow in his brow as he asks, “What’s positive? What’s going on?” His hands come up to cradle your face, his eyes scanning for any signs of injury or some other cause for the state of shock you appear to be in. 

You lift the object in your hand to eye level, saying, “The test is positive, Javi…I’m pregnant.” He blinks a couple times as he processes your words, then looks at the tiny window on the stick where a blue plus sign stares him right in the face. “We–really?” his breathing grows more rapid and you slowly nod your head.

“Yes–I mean, I think so. This is just the first test I took. I bought a few actually and I’ll have to make an appointment with my gynecologist to be sure, but I’m almost _certain_ it’s true because I skipped a period last month but I just assumed it was stress and–” you ramble on about the different symptoms you’ve been experiencing the past couple months and Javi does his best to remain attentive, but his thoughts are racing in every direction.

Truth be told, he is completely taken aback by the idea of you being pregnant again. The two of you haven’t exactly been trying for another baby, though you _have_ talked about the possibility of becoming a family of four. But you both had settled on trying again in a couple of years, when your baby girl is a little older and wouldn’t require _every_ ounce of attention possible. 

And yet, the moment those words fell from your lips, a rush of warmth began flooding his chest, leaving no space for fear or doubt. He’s always been a man of little faith – be it faith in humanity, in the criminal justice system, or in himself. 

But ever since the two of you found each other again – and after all the obstacles you faced to be together – it was like whatever shell had encased his heart for so long finally started to crack. And every time you smiled at him or traced your fingers along his skin, the rift in that shell would grow bigger and bigger until it shattered completely, leaving him filled with something he hasn’t felt in nearly a decade.

Something he can’t seem to give a name to, but he knows it’s there. Like the love he feels for you – how indescribably profound it is and how it only grows stronger as time goes on. 

“–I mean, are we…are we even _ready_ for another kid, Javi?” the hesitance in your voice pulls him from his thoughts and he finds you staring at him with your arms crossed over your chest, a hint of apprehension in your eyes. 

At some point, when he was lost in thought, his hands had fallen from your face to your shoulders. His gaze silently roams over your features while his thumbs absentmindedly stroke your skin. He steps closer to you, leaving barely an inch of distance between you, and his hands slowly travel down your arms until they come to rest on your hips where he holds you in a firm yet gentle grip and pulls you flush against him.

Your eyes flare with longing, your gaze falling to his mouth just before he leans in and captures your lips in a searing kiss, letting his body provide the reassurance you need in that moment. One of his hands glides to the small of your back, holding you even closer to him while his other hand cradles the back of your head.

His tongue strokes yours and you release a moan that ignites a fire in his veins. And when you plunge your hands into his hair, tugging fistfuls of it, a guttural moan resounds at the back of his throat. You shudder in his arms, your voice breaking as you mumble against his lips, “need you, Javi.”

He nods slowly, feeling the same need that’s radiating off your entire body. Walking the two of you backwards until the bed hits the backs of his thighs, your mouths continue to devour each other as his hands roam to your middle back, locating the zipper of your sundress.

It comes undone with ease and he slips his fingers below the material, sliding the straps off your shoulders until the dress falls to your feet. He hardly has time to admire your body before you’re reaching for the buttons of his shirt like a woman who’s starved for his touch. And, fuck, if he doesn’t want to satisfy your hunger.

With your combined efforts, his clothing is removed in record time, leaving both of you stripped completely bare – in more ways than one. A moment later, you settle onto the edge of the bed, leaning back on your elbows with your body on display and a burning desire in your eyes. 

And when you bend one of your legs at the knee, letting it fall to the side and fully exposing your center, he sucks in a breath from seeing how wet you are.

“ _Fuck_ , I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already ready for me,” he growls low in his belly as he leans forward and seizes your lips in a kiss that’s all tongues and teeth. He’s so distracted by the heat of your kiss that he doesn’t notice your hand moving between your bodies until you’re gripping his cock with one perfect stroke.

“Need you _now_ , Javi,” you plead as you continue your torturous massage on his length, pulling a low moan from him as he instinctively starts fucking your hand with short thrusts. His mouth falls open when you give him a particularly harsh tug and he quickly reaches down to still your hand before he cums right then and there like a fucking amateur.

You release a strained laugh when his head drops to your shoulder as he focuses on anything other than the image of his cum decorating your soft skin, the thought of which has him gently biting your shoulder in an attempt to ground himself. The breathless whimper that falls from your lips turns into a sigh as he licks the area and continues down your body, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth.

Your hands fly to his hair when his teeth graze over the hardened bud just before he shifts to your other breast, giving it the same attention. “Javi, please,” you moan while he slowly licks a trail down your abdomen, his hands smoothing their way up your hips to generously palm your breasts. 

“Mi amor,” he mumbles against your skin, nuzzling your inner thigh as he pushes your legs further apart. He glances up at you, his eyes meeting yours just as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. His hand comes to rest on your lower belly, holding you still as you start to writhe from anticipation.

He winks at you before burying his face between your thighs, flattening his tongue along your velvety folds then sucking your clit with a hum. Your cry of pleasure reverberates off the bedroom walls, making his ears ring and his cock twitch with need. 

He can already feel your arousal dripping down his chin as he inserts a digit into your fluttering heat, his tongue circling your clit. “Oh m– _god_ ,” you mewl, your hips lifting off the sheets as they eagerly undulate against his mouth. 

One of your hands fists his hair while the other reaches for his hand resting on your stomach. You intertwine your fingers with his and he gives your hand a reassuring squeeze as he plunges two thick fingers into your drenched folds. Your back arches as you gasp, chanting, “F-fuck–fuck me.” And when he curls his fingers inside you, slowly dragging them against your channel, your legs start to tremble around him. He can tell your right on the edge when your folds start to quiver and your cries become more desperate.

He swirls his tongue into your pussy as deep as he can go while rubbing your clit with fervor until you finally come undone, shouting his name over and over. When you start to come down moments later, he plants a few sloppy kisses to your inner thighs before moving back up your body and claiming your lips once more, making you taste yourself. 

Your fingers weave through his hair, your legs wrapping around his waist as tongues tangle and breaths mingle. And even as he becomes consumed by every touch and every sound that falls from your lips, he still wants _more_.

 _God, I love this woman with my entire being_ , he thinks to himself as he leans back, pulling your hips along with him. A soft gasp escapes you when the head of his cock brushes against your swollen clit. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, his chest heaving almost in time with yours as you gaze at him through half-lidded eyes. _What’s going through her mind right now?_ he wonders when you reach for him, and interlace your fingers with his.

But then you rest your other hand on your lower belly – just over your womb – and he suddenly understands. He brings your joined hands to his lips, turning his wrist so he can place a gentle kiss on your palm, murmuring, “bonita.”

And he understands everything you’re feeling in this moment because he feels it too. He’s always understood you and he always will.

~~~

Your eyes flutter closed, the intense emotion in his gaze becoming too much, and you roll your hips against him, his steely length gliding along sensitive folds. 

Everything within you feels so heavy – the air in your lungs, the blood in your veins…the being in your womb. As soon as that pregnancy test came out positive, you felt a weight start to slowly pull you down, like earth’s gravity had shifted and your whole body just felt…grounded. You hardly had time to process the feeling when you heard Javi calling for you, startling you into dropping the stick on the floor.

And then everything moved so fast after that – which was mostly your doing, you can admit – but now, time starts to slow again and that pressure that was building in you before returns ten-fold, making it difficult to breathe.

But when Javi whispers your name, you open your eyes to find him hovering over you, his eyes swimming with emotion. Your heart swells with longing when he presses a soft kiss to your neck, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your hip. 

Snaking an arm between your bodies, you reach for his rigid length, lining up the head with your aching center. A groan rumbles in the back of his throat as his hips slowly push forward, his rapid breaths hot against your skin. You bite down on your bottom lip as every delightful inch of him stretches you to the point of seeing stars in the backs of your eyes. 

He remains still as your body adjusts to him, while simultaneously kissing every inch of your skin he can reach. Then he pulls out of you almost completely before snapping his hips forward again, your whole body jolting from the sudden impact. Your nails dig into his back as he takes on a more steady rhythm, his mouth seizing yours in a desperate kiss as the two of you fall apart in each other’s arms.

But it still isn’t enough and you find yourself practically begging, “harder, Javi.” Something carnal flashes in his eyes and you hardly have time to prepare yourself before he’s leaning back and hooking your legs over his arms as he slams into you. 

“Oh, _fuck_!” you shout as he continues the unrelenting piston of his hips. The bed shakes beneath you, the frame banging against the wall, and mixed with the sounds of his skin slapping yours, your wetness squelching – it all makes for a salacious symphony that only pushes you closer to the brink of incomparable euphoria. 

Your mouth falls open when his cock grazes that exquisite spot deep within your core. But when he changes position so that he’s fucking down into you, and subsequently hitting that same spot over and over again, your walls begin to flutter around him. 

“ _Fuck_ , that’s it. Let go, mi amor – feel so fucking tight,” he spurs you on through gritted teeth, his own orgasm moments away from taking over. You clench down on him when he starts rubbing your clit, and all the weight that’s been holding you down starts to dissipate, leaving only the tendrils of light flooding your senses as you finally let go.

And he does the same as his hips stutter, pumping into you a couple more times before cursing as he fills you with his own release. A quiet moan escapes you as his warmth coats your walls, your legs twitching while they fall languidly onto the bed. 

The room is quiet, save for each of your labored breaths dwindling down to a normal rate, your and his hands roaming over one another in search of something to hold on to as you come down from a state of pure bliss.

An indecipherable amount of time passes as you lay tangled in each other’s arms. “Javi,” you whisper, tracing senseless patterns on his chest while his fingers lightly stroke up and down your spine. He hums, interlacing his fingers with yours before bringing your joined hands to his lips and leaving a ghost of a kiss on your knuckles. 

“Do you think,” you swallow hard, “do you think…we’re ready for another kid?” Repeating your question from earlier, your voice is distant, like you’re speaking from somewhere deep within your mind. 

Tilting his head just enough to look you in the eyes, he releases a deep breath as he says, “I don’t know if we’ll ever be ready, bonita.” You bite your lip, your worried gaze falling to his chest. He gently lifts your chin to find your eyes glistening with unshed tears, “But that doesn’t mean we’re not gonna love _both_ of our kids with everything we got. Okay?”

And the unwavering certainty in his eyes fills you not only with relief, but also with a sense of pride and admiration that can only come from loving someone so fiercely. He’s always had this unapologetic manner of fighting for what he believes in – all those years spent working for the DEA are proof of that. 

Yet even as his features soften and he rests his forehead against yours, you can see that it’s not just some moral obligation or a sense of duty that drives him to protect those he’s closest too. It’s something far more inherent than that – it’s in his very nature to care so deeply for the people he loves.

It’s one of the many reasons you fell in love with him all those years ago, back when the two of you were merely childhood friends. And you still are. Before anything – before any official title or union that binds the two of you – he is first and foremost your best friend. 

The only person that’s ever truly laid claim to your heart is Javier, and you know the same notion rings true for the way you’ve claimed his. There is no other being in existence who you want to raise your children and grow old with.

As he gently swipes his thumb over your plush skin, he presses a soft kiss to your lips and asks, “Are you happy, bonita?” in a voice that is warm and inviting. And you know he’s referring to more than just the news of your second pregnancy. 

Even so, a soft smile forms on your lips and you don’t hesitate to answer, “Yeah…I am.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Translations:**

_Ay qué preciosa nenita_ \- what a precious baby

 _feliz cumpleaños_ \- happy birthday

 _Sí, aquí estoy, mi amor_ \- yes, I’m here, my love

 _Nieta_ \- granddaughter

 _Pero ya te dije_ \- i already told you

 _que somos familia_. - we’re family

 _Tampoco eres tan joven_ \- You’re not so young either

 _Es cierto_ \- that’s true

 _Mijita_ \- my daughter

 _Me divertí mucho_ \- i had a lot of fun

 _Estoy tan agradecido_ \- I’m so grateful

 _¿Por qué tantas lágrimas hoy?_ \- Why so many tears today?

 _Mi esposa y como la amo con toda mi alma._ \- My wife, and how i love her with all my soul

 _Su esposo_ \- her husband


End file.
